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SELF-EDUCATION; 



THE MEANS AND ART 



MORAL PROGRESS 



TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF 



M. LE 



BARON DEfelERANDO. 



SECOND EDITION. 



BOSTON: 

CARTER AND HENDEE. 
1832. 



Jj(?' 



ip'^ 



^^v^ 



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Entered according to the act of Congress, in the year 1832, by Carter & Hendee, in 
the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



cambridoe: 
e. w. metcalf and co. 



"" PREFACE. 



The translator of Self-Education, in presenting the 
second edition to the public, feels able to say that it is 
more worthy of perusal than before, the translation 
having been a good deal revised, and the numerous 
misprints of the first edition, corrected. It is perhaps 
due to the translator's own taste, however, to say, that 
the peculiar, proverbial style of the original makes it 
impossible to give it a flowing style in English. 

It will be observed, that the few chapters, containing 
the metaphysical views, which constituted the First Book 
in the other edition, have been omitted in this. It is 
intended to retranslate these, in a much more free man- 
ner, and publish them separately, at some future time. 
They were omitted, in this book, because it was found 
that their metaphysical character created a prejudice in 
the minds of many persons ; and thus cut off the class of 
readers to whom the practical part would be most inter- 
esting and useful. These chapters will be published in 
such a form as to be adapted for the higher classes in 
schools ; and will, of course, be accessible to any, whose 
interest in the Author's metaphysical views may be 
excited by an acquaintance with his beautiful ethics. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter. Page. 

Introduction. 
General Conditions of Moral Progress ... 1 



PART I. 

SECTION I. 

Employment of the Moral Powers. 

I. How the Love of Excellence modifies Self-love . 9 

II. Justice 16 

III. How the Love of Excellence purifies the Affections 24 

IV. Goodness of Heart ...... 33 

V. Of False Sensibility . , 46 

VI. Rectitude of Intention 53 

VII. How the Love of Excellence may err . : . 61 

SECTION IL 
Fruits of Self-Government. 

I. Power over Inclination 72 

II. Limits and Moderation 80 

III. Strength of Character ...... 90 



VI CONTENTS. 

IV. Independence and Obedience . . . * • 102 
V. Right Direction of Activity 114 

VI. Temper 123 

VII. Errors in Self-Government 129 

SECTION III. 

The Harmony between the Love of Excellence and Self- 
Go vernment. 

Chapter. Page. 

I. Consistent Characters . . . . c .136 

II. Greatness of Soul 141 

III. Dignity of Character 148 

IV. Inward Peace 156 

V. How Moral contributes to Intellectual Progress . . 165 
VI. How Man is led to Religion by the Developement of 

the Moral Powers 179 



PART XL 

The Culture of the Moral Powers. 
SECTION I. 

Inward Discipline. 

I. Simplicity . . 19J 

II. Exercise and Habits 199 

III. Cultivation of Sensibility 210 

IV. Meditation, a Means of cultivating Sensibility . 225 
V. Maxims and Rules 2.35 

VI, Useof Allegories : Rewards and Punishments . 242 



CONTENTS. 



Vll 



VII. Tendency to Excellence 248 

VIII. How to acquire and preserve Self-Government . 258 

IX. Of the Difficulties we meet with in the Study of Self 267 

X. The Advantages that may be drawn from our own Faults 274 

SECTION II. 



Discipline of External Circumstances. 



Page. 

284 



Chapter. 

I. Imitation and Example . * . . . 

II. Friends and Enemies 293 

III. Solitude and Society 301 

IV. Plan of Life 312 

V. Different Human Conditions .... 318 

VI. Labor 233 

Vn. Pleasure and Repose 339 

VIII. Trials 346 

IX. Progress in Different Periods of Life . . . 357 

X. How Intellectual Progress conduces to Moral Progress 364 

XI. Religion considered as the Accomplishment of Man's 

Education . . . . . . . . 375 



INTRODUCTION. 



GENERAL CONDITIONS OF MORAL PROGRESS. 

Man, placed on the confines of two worlds, the mate- 
rial and moral, the transient and eternal, the visible and 
invisible world, borrows from each and communicates with 
both, being intermedial, and a bond between them ; and 
this mixed condition partly explains the contrasts his na- 
ture exhibits. In his relations with the external world he 
is passive ; in his relations with the region of sentiment and 
thought he is active ; in the one he receives ; in the other 
he produces ; and the first order of relations serves as a 
prelude for the second. Man, however, reacts upon the 
material world by the operations of the arts, as afterwards 
he submits himself voluntarily, in the moral world, to an 
enlightened dependence, by accepting the laws which gov- 
ern his nature. 

We have said that man is connected with two worlds. 
Through the senses, he takes possession of his terrestrial 
abode ; the affections and the intellect are the portals which 
give him access to the other ; where morality and reli- 
gion await him, to render him at once happy and free, use- 
ful to himself and to others. Thus our organization has a 
direction towards perfection, each organ contributing its 
share to the result, each delivering to the other what it has 
progressively drawn forth; like a precious plant, whose roots 
are in the soil, and whose sap is abundant, which raises 
1 



"Z INTRODUCTION. 

towards heaven its branches and foliage, unfolds odorife- 
rous flowers, and is loaded with fruits that afford seeds of 
a new future : or, like the general system of the laws of the 
universe, in which the phenomena of the earth are in re- 
lation with those of the heavens ; and in which the quali- 
ties inherent to each substance, such as heat, light, motion, 
and reproduction, are so combined, as to produce a general 
and ever-renewed harmony. 

To the five degrees of the ascending scale* correspond 
five kinds of good, which are so many special ends, mark- 
ing out for each order of faculties the destination which is 
proper for it. The exercise of the senses has for its object 
the preservation of the individual, which we may call per- 
sonal good ; the affections identify personal good with the 
happiness of others ; the intellect has truth for its end and 
science for its treasure, which form an intellectual good ; 
the moral faculties have duty for their end and virtue for 
their treasure ; while religious worship puts man in posses- 
sion of the future, and gives him an end beyond the limits 
of his terrestrial existence, in his communion with Him who 
is the source and beginning of all things. But none of 
these different ends is exclusive ; no one remains isolated ; 
each serves in its turn as a means and an instrument to all the 
others ; they become more powerful in their turn, in propor- 
tion as they themselves approach perfection, and that which 
is the most elevated of all, is of all the most fruitful. The 
simplicity and unity of this system are remarkable ; religion 
sanctions, commands, and rewards virtue, which is the 
means of personal good and general happiness, and alone 
gives true value to the understanding, and brings it to per- 
fection. 

The perfection of all beings consists in the faithfulness 
with which they conform themselves to their nature. The 

* The senses, the affections, the intellect, and the moral and the reli- 
gious faculties. 



GENERAL CONDITIONS OP MORAL PROGRESS. d 

perfection of man, then, consists in his pursuing and attain- 
ing the five kinds of good, which we have just mentioned, 
according to the relations of subordination and harmony, 
which exist between them ; for it is thus, as we have just 
seen, that the different orders of his faculties will accomplish 
their respective destinations. 

Two essential conditions, therefore, serve as a basis to 
our progress ; one is, that we should know how to find the 
end which is best in itself; the other is, that we should be 
capable of attaining it ; and these conditions suppose com- 
plete liberty ;* that is, the liberty of choosing, and of acting 
according to our choice. If, when exercising the will, we 
do not consider what is best, this capricious exercise is the 
abuse rather than the use of it. If, when aiming at the best, 
we have not force of will to attain it, we are consumed in 
vain desires, and our very sense of the excellence of the end 
becomes our despair. But by this union of a two-fold condi- 
tion, we join the merit of choice to that of effort ; the value 
of the one being in the motive, that of the other in the in- 
strument. 

Hence we have two great moral powers, upon which 
seems to depend our progress ; namely, the Love of Good, 
and Self-government. In common language, the Love of 
Good means zeal for the interests of humanity ; but we give 
it its most extensive and general sense. In good, we com- 
prehend all that is excellent in itself, as an end proposed 
to the human will, (adopting the language of the sages of 
antiquity ; ) and by love we understand that enlightened, 
free, generous emotion of the soul, which is as entirely de- 
voted as it is sincere ; and this principle therefore may per- 
haps be better distinguished, if we call it the Love of Excel- 
lence. 

* Moral liberty means, (1.) the liberty with which man is endowed of 
appreciating the comparative worth of the five kinds of good offered to 
him through the five orders of his faculties; and (2.) the liberty of acting 
accordingly, notwithstanding circumstances, 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

This devotion to excellence, this kind of consecration, by 
which man gives up himself and all he possesses to the end, 
which he has acknowledged as his destiny, is the true living 
principle of humanity, the source of all the great and useful, 
which it produces : it is the soul of heroism and the genius 
of virtue. The essence of all our moral activity dwells in this. 
It is an expansive force, indefinite and illimitable , a pro- 
found, inward, insatiable passion of the soul, it is at the same 
time delightful and peaceful, because it puts the soul into 
its natural element, carries it into the midst of order, accom- 
plishes all its wishes, and satisfies all the desires, which are 
derived from itself. Happy and proud of what we have just 
acquired, the joy we feel is not only a desire to acquire more^ 
but a new power. 

The only source of calm happiness and inward content, 
is the consciousness of this Love of Excellence. The mod- 
els of it are whatever, in great and generous characters, ex- 
cites admiration, esteem, and emulation. Its fruits may be 
found in all that diffuses abundant and lasting blessings over 
the earth ; in all that acts without destroying; in all that 
creates, multiplies, and ameliorates ; and its dignity, and the 
heritage which awaits it, may be seen in our tendency to- 
wards a superior nature, in our participation with it, and our 
presentiments of the future. This devotion to excellence, 
such as we conceive it, finds no aliment in the motives 
which address the senses ; it only finds in them images, 
signs, means of communication, and matter for sacrifices. 
But though yet blind and unreflecting, it begins to exert it- 
self and flourish in the region of the affections, where we 
first go beyond personal good. Reason enlightens it in the 
intellectual region ; while moral sentiment defines and justi- 
fies it, and it acknowledges and embraces its true end. But 
it is fully explained and satisfied in the religious sphere 
only. The Love of Excellence subdues Self-Iove by purify- 
ing the idea of self, and then adopting it. But it is always 
at open w^r with gross, absolute, savage, exclusive personal 



efeNERAL CONDltlONS OP MORAL PROGRESS. 5 

feeling, which it is its calling to struggle with, to conquer^ 
and exterminate. It comprehends and mingles in itself the 
reverence for Law, and the devotion of Love ; for it includes 
the disinterested principle, which is common to both, and 
which is equally necessary to obedience and zeal. If we 
give to this devotion the name of Love^ it is because love 
expresses the most perfect and most elevated obedience. 
The Love of Excellence is, if we may so speak, animated 
and active conscience ; it does not merely express its de- 
sires ; it supposes approbation of the end we have chosen ; 
but it is more than approbation, it is a just and holy enthu- 
siasm for what is good ; it is the intense, persevering, and 
ever-increasing thirst for the best. The characteristic of 
the Love of Excellence is, to dilate, to aspire to the future, 
to mount, and to be constantly progressive. Self-government, 
on the other hand, is the lever by whose aid the inspirations 
<of the Love of Excellence are accomplished; and man dispo- 
ses of his organs, rules his affections, governs his ideas, and 
commands his will itself; by turns exciting, moderating, di- 
recting, repressing himself In a word, he reigns, his inclina- 
tions being his subjects, and his faculties his ministers ; the 
internal kingdom, over which he is appointed, awaiting the 
action of his government, to receive order and peace. He 
reigns, however, not without meeting resistance; but with 
the mission and power of triumphing, not only by strength, 
but by right. He not only acts on, but gives law to him- 
self; he is not a tyrant, but a sovereign. 

This last consideration demands our most serious attention ; 
it explains the true character of Self-government. There 
is Law for man, because there is a destination ; and this 
Law is promulgated and proclaimed from within. This 
Law, so deeply felt, is the due proportion of his faculties ; 
a deposit, a guide, given to the moral being, to conduct 
him to his end. As the child, the pupil, and the citizen 
are so many deposits, trusted to parents, tutors, and magis- 
trates ; as parents, tutors, and magistrates are charged to 
1* 



O INTRODUCTION. 

make known to them the laws of reason, and the presctip- 
tions of society, for the greatest good of each and of all ; so 
also man is a deposit, confided to his own care by Provi- 
dence, owing protection to himself; and he is the interpre- 
ter and organ of the anterior laws, which rule his nature. 
We here find, as it were, two natures, united in one individu- 
al, the one passive, the other active ; one feeble, because 
ignorant ; the other powerful, because enlightened. Man is 
his own property, because he must be his own guide. The 
authority that he exercises over himself, is only that of 
virtue, deriving from virtue dignity as well as legitimacy ; 
and the right he has over himself is only the emanation of 
his duty. Man exercises within himself a true and high 
magistracy ; for he shows himself there as the delegate and 
minister of God himself. 

What are all those forms of ambition with which vanity 
orments and leads us astray? What is that external and 
apparent power, of which we are so jealous, whether we ap- 
ply our physical strength to matter, or pretend to subdue 
the wills of other men to the caprices of our own ? Its 
character, its source, its fruits are nothing, if it does not go 
back to the same principle, if it be not also a delegation of 
virtue. This is the end to which all noble and just ambi- 
tion ought to aspire, and to which all noble and just ambi- 
tion can attain. When Augustus cries, " I am master of 
myself as well as of the world," it certainly is not the master 
of the world who is sublime, it is the master of himself, who 
wished for, and was concious of, the only dignity of man. 
If the condition of the former seems to raise the merit of the 
latter in our eyes, it is because it renders the triumph of 
the latter more heroic, because the mortal master of him- 
self has subdued the master of the world. 

Self-government begins in the intellect ; man governs 
the operations of his mind ; he separates and combines his 
ideas ; he places signs upon them ; he attracts or repels 
them ; he obeys reason and acknowledges the law of evi- 



GENERAL CONDITIONS OF MORAL PROGRESS. 7 

dence. But in morality, Self-government is explained and 
finds its end ; because it acknowledges the law from which 
it borrows all its rights, — that of duty. Religion conse- 
crates Self-govei'nment, because it confounds it with the 
most perfect obedience, and reveals its true origin. But 
this internal dignity, thus instituted and confirmed, is trans- 
mitted, as it were, by a secondary delegation, to the infe- 
rior faculties ; and it ennobles while subduing them, be- 
cause the service, to which it calls them, is legitimate, and, 
by serving reason, they extend the dominion of which they 
are the organs. Thus the senses, employed in the operations 
of art, may subdue material nature to the empire of man ; 
and the affections, regulated by wisdom, may become the 
bond to unite him to all society ; and understanding and 
imagination may create an ideal world through the fine arts, 
and bring into the mind the whole universe, through the 
discoveries of science. 

These two great moral powers are not always developed to 
the same degree ; and sometimes we may even be tempted 
to think, that one increases at the expense of the other. 
We too often see a high moral enthusiasm in a weak char- 
acter, and ungenerous sentiments with an energetic will. 
In the first case there is more contemplation than action ; 
as in the second there is more motion than fruitfulness. Yet 
these two powers are also associated by close consanguinity 
of principle, and one is imperfect when abandoned by the 
other. What is ardor for excellence, without the courage to 
accomplish it ; and to what, if not to excellence, shall we 
present the sacrifice of our inclinations ? A good action is 
more meritorious the more efforts it costs ; and an energet- 
ic resolution is more praiseworthy, the purer the motive 
which inspires it. 

Of these two great moral powers, the Love of Excellence 
and Self-government, one assigns the true direction to our 
faculties, the other gives them energy ; one belongs to the 
springs of the will more especially, and the other to the ex- 



8 INTRODUCTION* 

ercise of liberty ; one seems to contribute more to the gen- 
tle, and the other to the strong virtues; one predominates 
in qualities, which, like goodness of heart, have an eminently 
social character ; the other in those of which the merit is 
rather individual, as temperance and courage ; one was pre- 
ferred in the school of Plato, the other at the Portico. It 
was reserved for Christianity to associate them closely ; to 
confer upon them equal energy ; and to give heroes to the 
Love of Excellence. 

The three principles which preside over the constitution 
iDfour nature are Self-love, Law,* and Love. Self-love is 
purified and enlightened by its alliance with the two others ; 
and thus Law and Love, both including a disinterested char- 
acter, govern the system of our moral faculties. Of these 
three principles, the two last correspond also to the powers 
whose action is to develope this system ; Law serves as a 
regulator to Self-government, as Love is the inspiration to 
the Love of Excellence. 

It is in the action and culture of these two powers, that 
we must seek the secrets of the great art of our moral per- 
fection. The different degrees, which constitute the proper 
•exercise of the five orders of faculties, which we have dis- 
tinguished, are the general frame of the work. The Love 
of Excellence and Self-government will serve to fill it. In 
placing ourselves in the two points of view, which they offer 
to our meditations, we shall see presented, according to 
their relations of subordination and analogy, the different 
means, which concur in self-education. 



* Law means the authority of truth over the intellect, and of good 
over the conscifence. 



SELF-EDUCATION, 



EMPLOYMENT OF THE MORAL POWERS. 



CHAPTER I. 

HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MODIFIES SELF-LOVE. 

In considering man in relation to himself and to his fellow- 
beings, five truths are brought to our view. 

1. The just feeling of our rights is acquired by the feel- 
ing of our duties. 

2. The feeling of duty is the light which guides us to the 
knowledge of our true interests. 

3. We could not accomplish faithfully what is strictly re- 
quired of us, were we not animated with that desire of the 
best, which renders us capable of doing more than is requir- 
ed. 

4. The finest dispositions of nature go astray, and the best 
qualities of character degenerate, if not guided by the Love, 
of Excellence, which is their inspiration. 

5. The Love of Excellence is the only principle which 
can carry on the work, and accomplish the best designs of 
nature. 

We are led to these truths, by investigating the source of 
individual rights, and following the course of social relations :■ 
at every step, the Love of Excellence appears as the guardd* 

; an of humanity and its creative genius. 

i The Love of Excellence and Self-love may seem, set first. 
view, contradictory principles ; the latter is eager to eaarioh 



10 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



itself, and consequently is inclined to take from others ; the 
former would acquit its sense of obligation even by dispos- 
sessing itself The differing errors of certain philosophers 
have arisen, from this apparent contradiction in the govern- 
ing principles of human nature. Some have thought that 
the principle of all human determinations might be traced 
up to self-interest ; others have believed that duty requires 
an entire immolation of individual being to the ideal of per- 
fection. And these erroneous speculations, put into prac- 
tice, have given rise either to the errors of selfishness, or to. 
the exaggerations of that zeal, which misses the end by 
springing beyond it. The truth is, that the Love of Excel- 
lence does not tend to destroy Self-love ; it only would en^ 
lighten it, and turn it towards accomplishing the true desti- 
ny of man. 

We appear to ourselves under a new aspect, in the light 
of duty. Moral sentiment reveals to us, that Providence 
has committed to the care of each of us a sacred deposit ; 
but though we cease to be our own slaves, we do not conse- 
quently become uninterested in ourselves, much less our 
own enemies. Virtue sanctions, directs, and limits Self- 
love ; giving it motives through the sense of obligation and 
the principle of reflection ; raising and associating us with 
our Creator, in his designs and solicitude for his noblest 
work ; in short, it is the guide and protector of man, giving 
him these four important duties, his own preservation, his own 
happiness, his own dignity, his own improvement ; and sup- 
plying him also with assistance to discharge these duties. 

Self-interest alone would not even gain the end of self- 
preservation. For, guided by this principle, we should 
make two kinds of mistake ; either, under the weight 
of misfortune, the interest of self-preservation would be 
lost by life's offering only a compound of good and evil ; 
or, if the balance seemed turned, we should justify ourselves 
in the violent resolutions of despair, and lose all the calcu- 
lations of prudence : or, on the other hand, it would counsel 



LOVE OP EXCELLENCE. 11 

the cowardliness of indifference, even in the presence of a 
general interest, which commands us to brave danger. But 
virtue puts a barrier on the border of the abyss ; or removes 
the obstacle, which prevents us from flying to the relief of 
others : for she discovers in life a value beyond that of mere 
personal good, and superior to it, which will not be sacrificed 
for merely personal considerations. The true value of life 
arises from our power of being useful ; and virtue prevents 
us from sacrificing, even to the preservation of life, this 
end, for which life was given. Thus far all is harmony ; for 
there is no situation, in which a man, however weighed down 
by personal misfortune, may not be useful, even if he does 
nothing more than teach how misfortune may be supported. 
Besides, who could flatter himself, that he had preserved, in 
the anguish of grief, a sufficiently calm judgment to calcu- 
late the chances for the future, or the best means for his 
personal interest? From the illusions into which the in- 
stinct of self-preservation would lead us, virtue protects us, 
— more than supplying the place of prudence ; do ng also, 
through its loftier foresight, the work of that instinct, which 
interest seemed to compromise, for we obtain new securities, 
and more abundant aid, all unawares to ourselves, even 
through the exposure of ourselves for the common good. For 
there is always risk, whether we act or not, and whatever 
we do, when Self-love only is in play ; but virtue creates a 
kind of good, to which there is no risk in attaching our- 
selves, not even that of error, for, in the eyes of virtue, error 
is lost in the intention that springs from perfect rectitude. 
Self-interest could still less lead us to happiness, or even 
define it, as is evident from the ever-changing and always 
incomplete definitions, that the selfish give to it, (who al- 
ways end in pronouncing it a chimera.) But this is because 
happiness does not dwell where self-interest seeks it, in the 
mere enjoyment of pleasure ; for whatever may be the vivid- 
ness or duration of pleasure, happiness rests upon v/ider and 
more difficult conditions, upon a harmony of enjoyments 



SI SELF-EDUCATION. 

among themselves, or with our wants, or with the laws of 
our faculties, or with the capacity we have for relishing it, or 
with recollections of the past and prospects of the future. 
Happiness, in short, is a profound economy, that self-interest, 
in its impatient avidity, cannot combine ; but virtue gives the 
plan beforehand, putting every thing in place, preserving 
-^very thing in its limits, and producing the equilibrium, 
whence personal good flows. The best counsels of self-in- 
terest are only those of experience, which come too late and 
-are too dearly paid for. It is true, there are some philo- 
sophical speculations in common practice : but the instru- 
ment, by whose aid those learned calculations can be appli- 
ed to human life; the measure, which may set limits to 
immediate good and evil, and give a just value to that 
which is lost in the distance ; and the power of reasoning 
with sufficient accuracy, to prevent the illusions of hope and 
fear, can be obtained from virtue alone, which gives the 
limits and measure, and guides the reason. It has, as it 
were, preexisting formulas, which, by assigning rules for our 
conduct, secure our happiness from delusions of the imagi- 
nation and errors of judgment. It has also an influence of 
calmness and serenity, which serves to prevent these errors, 
and helps to dissipate them. 

Self-interest watches over the interest of our individual 
pride ; but this pride is rather a desire of esteem, than an ac- 
quired right to esteem. The support which self-interest 
takes to maintain itself in the rank which it desires to oc- 
cupy, does not entirely belong to it. But morality brings 
to light authentic titles, those of human nature itself, in 
which we all participate ; they are those which we derive 
from our noble origin, and which confer on us an imposing 
vocation ; for our rank upon earth is elevated by virtue to 
the sacred dignity of probation. Virtue also teaches us the 
most direct way to obtain esteem, by teaching us to deserve 
it ; and authorizes us to judge opinion when we are calum- 
niated by it, and to repel injustice by contempt. She in- 



LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 13 

spires us with more than love for ourselves, — with self- 
respect; for in the midst of all the imperfections of our na- 
ture, even through the deformities by which vice or error 
disfigures man, she makes us discover the primitive traits 
which were impressed upon our nature by Supreme Wis- 
dom, and helps us to renew this celestial impress. She 
gives to each of us a kind of public character, by calling 
upon us to live for society ; and invests us with that true 
dignity, which consists in serving the general interest. Fi- 
nally, self-interest only calls us to the cultivation of our 
faculties by a mercenary motive, that of being more skilful 
in the art of satisfying our individual wants ; and how proud 
we grow from this skilfulness, and the success consequent 
upon it ! The value of this kind of cultivation is the same 
to us as that of gold and power : perhaps the value is less, for 
gold and power are still more easily employed by those who 
possess them. But, in the eyes of virtue, the treasures which 
are placed within ourselves, have a much greater value : 
another interest excites us to improve them ; for how much 
more vast are the consequences we may expect from our 
own improvement, when we consider the influence that we 
exert over the happiness of others; when, in cultivating our 
faculties, we know that we cultivate a germ sown by the 
Supreme Hand, and which is to be developed in all future 
time ! Our success in this double design depends much 
more upon our own resources, than upon those we borrow 
from external circumstances ; it is by inward power that we 
reap advantage from circumstances. Let us take care not 
to lavish, wantonly, the accusation of selfishness, upon 
those moral doctrines, which recommend self-protection to 
man, although they should contain some theoretical error 
upon the principle of obligation ; especially, if Self-love, 
thus introduced into practice, has the characteristic it ought 
to receive from virtue. To proscribe a lawful Self-love, 
would be to give the lie to nature, and to put aside the de- 
signs of its Author, who wills that Self-love sh.ould be inter- 
2 



14 SELF-EDUCATION. 

ested in the accomplishment of his law, and that the accom- 
plishment of his law should be an immense blessing. But 
let us guard ourselves from concentrating in the single in- 
terest of Self-love, how well soever it may appear to be un- 
derstood, all the motives, which lead us to excellence; for 
then we should break that alliance with a purer principle, 
from which it gains all its advantages. 

The self of selfishness, and the self which virtue takes 
care of, are not the same ; the former is an idol, to which 
we offer incense ; we know the latter is blind, and we give 
it a guide. The first is an absolute end, to which every 
thing is referred ; the second is an instrument, whose merit 
consists in the usefulness of its services. Intercourse with 
the first is restless, -full of demands and caprices, as barren 
for the heart as for the mind : intercourse with the second 
has charms and nobleness, because virtue diffuses over it its 
own excellence. The first is impoverished because it is 
solitary ; the second is enriched by all the alliances it con- 
tracts. 

Since man has duties to fulfil towards himself, it follows, 
that he has rights over the things proper and necessary for 
their accomplishment. These are correlative terms in the 
general plan. The means of execution are destined for 
man, as he is destined to the end, which is marked out for 
him. Thus, from the duty of self-preservation arises the 
right of lawful defence ; from the duty which prescribes 
care of his own happiness, arises the right of employing for 
it the objects which are at his disposal, that is, not merely 
those, the employment of which is possible, but those also 
which are not already occupied by another's right ; from 
the duty, which commands him to preserve the dignity of 
his nature, arises the right of making his independence and 
reputation respected ; finally, from the duty, which obliges 
him to labor for his own improvement, arises the right that 
he has to regulate his faculties, his right to truth, and the 
other means of progress. Property itself is derived, either 



LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 15 

from the right of the first occupant, or from the right, which 
labor gives over its own productions, or from a transmission, 
which goes back to one of those two sources. Now the 
right of the first occupant, is only the consequence of that 
which an individual has to appropriate to his personal com- 
fort whatever has not become the property of another ; and 
the right arising from labor is but the consequence of that 
which an individual possesses over his own powers, of which 
labor is the application. 

Considered under this point of view, and as the conse- 
quences of duties, rights will doubtless be exercised with 
more moderation, but they also will become more sacred. It 
will be easier to distinguish when they should be rigorously 
claimed, and when they are simply lawful ; for it will be 
sufficient to examine, whether the duty to which they are 
referred is absolute, and they constitute the only and indis- 
pensable means of fulfilling it. Thus we shall understand 
on what occasions we can give up our rights, and how it 
can even become praiseworthy to give up our apparent 
rights ; for instance, when the means destined for the ac- 
complishment of duty turn against the end to which the 
duty is directed, or may be directly applied to this same end 
without producing personal enjoyment at the moment. Thus, 
and especially, we shall learn to distinguish rights from pre- 
tensions ; thus, by knowing our own rights, we shall learn 
to know better the rights of others. Were the individual 
alone upon earth, his rights would have no limits but those 
of his duties towards God and himself. But placed in the 
midst of society, and of a society already formed, his con- 
dition changes ; yet the same regulator may preside over 
his destiny. 



16 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



CHAPTER II. 



JUSTICE. 



All trouble and disorder in society arise from the confu- 
sion that exists between rights and interests ; that is to say, 
from the voluntary or involuntary mistake we make when 
we pretend to exercise a right, while we merely pursue an 
interest. Legislators and governments have frequently made 
this mistake, and hence have come oppressive laws and un- 
just decisions. Rights and interests can be easily discrimi- 
nated : the former are limited, the latter clash ; the former, 
by being limited, are balanced and harmonized ; the latter, 
being unlimited in their nature and confined in their field 
of exercise, must encroach on the rights of others, to satisfy 
their own avidity. Now justice is a general interest, though 
general interest is not justice ; since the interest of the few 
must be sacrificed to that of the many, though the rights 
of the most obscure individual may not be sacrificed to the 
general interest. 

Personal and individual rights are equal; for each of 
them springs from the primitive right every one has over 
himself Rights over things, arising from labor or original 
possession, have the same source as personal rights, 
though not the same extent : these rights include what we 
have lawfully acquired. Moreover, the respect due from 
each one to the rights of others, arises from the same prin- 
ciple as that which imposes duties on ourselves : the will of 
nature, the supreme law of Providence, calls upon all men 
to move on to their common destination in their respective 
spheres. The liberty granted to individual interests, is va- 
rious, and vastly disproportionate ; but interests do not 
merely aspire to equality, but to dominion ; and it is the 
tendency of each to monopolize. 



JUSTICE. 17 

• General order is preserved by a balance of rights, and by 
inequality of conditions. The justice which surrounds men 
with an equal safeguard, also protects this inequality of con- 
ditions against ail pretension not founded upon labor and 
services. 

We can easily see the danger of systems, which, found- 
ing rights upon interests, would make the first commensu- 
rate with the second. We see also why the most celebrat- 
ed advocate * of a system of this kind was obliged to sup- 
pose, that the primitive and natural state of society was war, 
and consequently to seek a remedy for injustice as noxious 
as the evil itself. Not finding it in morality, he sought it 
in tyranny. Oppression will always spring from such a 
principle, but harmony never. Harmony cannot be estab- 
lished unless we acknowledge the supremacy of rights, and 
consequently are ready to make a sacrifice of interests ; 
whence it follows, that there is necessarily an element of 
generosity in justice. There would not be any real rights 
without this subordination ; for men, with the notion of right, 
have a feeling of duty, which commands them to respect 
it : these are correlative. The notion of right does not 
govern, like ambition, through violence. Rights are lim- 
ited, and consequently defined, by the principle of duty. 

So long as interests and rights harmonize, society is free 
from danger; the moment they clash, it is in peril. Laws 
and magistrates take the utmost care to keep them united ; 
but their efforts generally avail little. The sentiment of 
duty completes the work of laws and magistrates, and might 
supply their place, were it but armed like them with the 
power of the sword ; the sacrifices which justice requires, 
spring from that generosity, which is happily an element of 
its essence. 

It is by the concurrence of generosity, that justice is pla- 
ced in the rank of the virtues, becoming meritorious, hon- 
orable, and estimable. The degree of its merit is propor- 

• Hobbes. 



18 SELF-EDUCATION. 

tioned to the extent of the devotedness which this generosity 
inspires, and to the depth and energy of the sentiment, which 
makes duty dear for its own sake. He who merely sacrifi- 
ces to fear, though he may pursue the same conduct, does 
not sacrifice, but calculate ; he is not just, but a coward. 
We do not call a man just, who refrains from injuring when 
he finds no advantage in it. In this case, we are all just, 
without thinking of it ; virtuous, without effort ; good, every 
moment in the day, and even during our sleep. Justice 
must be difficult, in order to become a virtue ; and, as it is 
difficult in proportion as a man's neighbour possesses what 
he wants, a just man's merit is increased by poverty ; and 
thus justice takes the character of virtue in those who are 
least favored by fortune, a class, which includes the largest 
portion of society. When an obscure street-porter finds a 
treasure, whose proprietor is unknown, and he can take it 
without being discovered, and yet seeks the owner and con- 
tinues poor of his own accord, he is only just ; — but what 
greatness there is in this justice ! This is an admirable 
economy of morality, by which those who are least favored 
by fortune, yet are the strongest in numbers, are bound, not 
with servile bonds, but by a chain which elevates while it 
checks them, and, in the very restraint that it imposes upon 
the lower classes, becomes an honorable distinction. What 
would become of us, if morality did not thus interpose be- 
tween the small number of the wealthy and the crowd of 
the indigent ? How do the rich repose in peace, and the 
poor rest satisfied with the hard labor which obtains so 
small a recompense 1 Oh ! is it not, because morality is 
most powerful and universal 1 Is it not, because there is 
more real virtue in the world than we in our thoughtlessness 
suspect 1 But virtue, if it merely preserves order, is little 
noticed ; crime is striking because it disturbs natural and 
general harmony ; it is known, it is talked about, and pub- 
lished, because it is off*ensive. The historian recapitulates 
its deeds as he preserves the remembrance of the plagues 



JUSTICE. 19 

that ravage the earth, thus calumniating the race he pro- 
fesses to describe. 

Sometimes vanity and passion excite men to give, as they 
excite them to usurp, or prevent them from making restitu- 
tion ; and hence there may be more disinterestedness in 
simple justice, than in liberality itself. 

But this is not all : in judging the human heart, we dis- 
cover, that a constant faithfulness to the duty of justice re- 
quires something more than the feeling of this duty alone. 
The formulas of justice are clear, precise, and strict; but 
it is impossible that motives should adapt themselves to these 
precise distinctions with perfect exactness ; and he who 
wrould confine himself to desiring merely what is allowable 
could not always succeed in accomplishing his wish. A 
superabundance of sentiment is required, to fill the exact 
measure of duty. Wealth of heart, is necessary, to procure 
a competency of integrity. We cannot fully enter into the 
conception of what is just, without putting ourselves, in im- 
agination, completely in the situation of another, so as to 
perceive how he would see and feel, and thus understand 
what should be done for him, as if it were to be done for 
ourselves ; but this identification of ourselves with others 
supposes a commencement, at least, of benevolence : \ve 
cannot be just, without loving in a degree. 

But why is it, that, when all render unanimous homage 
to the rules of justice, expressed in abstract and general 
formulas, we so easily dispense with their application ? 
Why do we never commit mistakes to our disadvantage ? 
Is it not because we do precisely contrary to what has just 
been said 1 instead of learning to live in others, we are con- 
centrated in ourselves ; what wounds our fellow-being, es- 
capes our attention, or seems unimportant to us ; what 
wounds ourselves, is magnified in our eyes by all the pre- 
ference we feel for self We see but one side of the ques- 
tion, — that which is before us; the demands of self-interest 
become so imperious, that, uncionsciously perhaps, we regard 



20 SELF-EDUCATION. 

them as a peremptory law for every thing that relates to us ; 
being slaves to our inclinations, we wish to escape from the 
disgrace of servitude, by justifying it ; we desire to enjoy 
with more security, and, that we may attain our end, we 
would like to envelope our selfishness in the mantle of jus- 
tice ; yet such is the real character of justice, that it must 
be constant and uniform towards every one. A single 
crime is sufficient to sully the whole course of life. 

Nothing, at first, appears more conformable to justice 
than the right of revenge ; it reestablishes the equality, 
which a usurpation of rights had encroached upon ; and 
this is partly the reason why the law of retaliation was the 
first criminal code of nations. But the sentiment of benev- 
olence, the law of love, has corrected this cruel error, and 
taught a truer justice, revealing to us, even in him who 
oflfends us, a brother, who has a claim upon our regard 
notwithstanding his offence : making us understand, that, 
although the barrier which protected our own rights is 
broken, that which protects the rights of others remains ; 
that the right of defending ourselves is not that of destroy- 
ing, and that social equality is not a struggle of hatred. 
The notion of right, enlightened by the sentiment of duty, 
teaches us, that, in the transgression, of which we are the 
victims, is comprised a crime towards society, of which we 
are but the members ; and that by taking upon ourselves to 
punish, we usurp the function of judges. 

There is an odious prejudice favored by party animosity 
and national hate, that passion authorizes every thing 
against an enemy. But does virtue permit us to call one of 
our fellow-creatures an enemy ? The progress of social 
institutions must be conformable to the moral progress of 
individuals : by reserving to the sword of the law the sup- 
pression of crime, each one is permitted to observe the 
counsels of virtue in peace. 

Beside what is strictly duti/, there are some things not 
determined by precise rules, but which are nevertheless pre- j 



JUSTICE. 21 

scribed by delicacy. Here, definitions fail, and moral senti- 
ment must enlighten us. What precepts cannot provide for, 
will be inspired by that instinct of a virtuous heart, which 
is surer than all precepts. Delicacy is the flower of justice; 
it evinces the life and fertility of the plant ; and when it 
withers, it is because the sap has begun to dry up. Deli- 
<;acy is justice in little things ; it therefore supposes, that 
our pure love for what is just will give us discrimination, 
and raise little things, by making them the occasions of vir- 
tue. Delicacy acquires peculiar merit from the nicety of 
discrimination which it supposes, and it is pure in propor- 
tion as it has no other witness than itself 

Independently of the outward integrity, which respects 
the rights established over material things, and which is 
merely the outside of justice, there is another kind of hon- 
esty, less known and more difficult ; — that which respects 
the dignity of others, and their happiness; these are bles- 
sings, which do not strike the eye, but which, on this ac- 
count, are more real and precious. Here, where civil law 
ceases, the power of virtue is displayed ; and here justice 
has fewer securities than ever, if it be not supported by 
benevolence. You do not encroach upon another's patri- 
mony. You do well ; but do you never cast a blemish 
upon the reputation he enjoys ? Do you never disturb his 
affections 1 Do you never wound his heart with the arrows 
of envy and hatred ? Then only can you call yourself just. 
JBut you may ask, how can we foresee the many ways, ia 
which we may trouble our brother ? There is but one way ; 
|we must love him sincerely : thus we must know how ta 
jlove, if we would be perfectly just. 

\ Gratitude is also a link between justice and love. It dis- 
charges, by means of the affections, those debts, which the 
[affections alone can discharge, and which are so much the 
more sacred for this reason. Gratitude never springs up in 
the soil of selfishness ; for self-interest, in its eagerness to 
'appropriate, is unable to understand the impulse af gene- 



"22 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Tosity, or to measure the true value of the gift. And, when 
we do understand it, we must love much, to be willing to 
accept : we refuse, when we love but little. Gratitude is the 
justice of the heart. 

We have said that a balance of interests does not consti- 
tute justice. But there is a kind of balance of interests 
which is the aim of the equitable ; he who gives, will give 
equally to those who have the same wants, provided they 
also have the same claims; proportioning his gifia to wants 
and claims. Benevolence, impartial benevolence, is also 
exercised according to the degrees of merit. Thus benevo- 
lence is justice in the form of liberality, as gratitude is be- 
nevolence in the form of justice. 

Finally, we are not merely comm.anded to see that justice 
is done to ourselves, but we must see that it is done to oth- 
ers ; we must be interested in its cause, although personally 
uninterested in its results ; and sympathize deeply with the 
reprobation it pronounces against those who violate its 
laws ; and, more than this, if society itself does not take 
care to maintain rights, it is our duty to defend them, and 
protect oppressed innocence. Then justice shines in its 
peculiar glory ; for then it is eminently generous : no longer 
bearing the character of a mere prudence which forbids us 
to injure, but commanding us to assist ; it is animated and 
instinct with life. It stamped the heroic ages with an im- 
pr^ess of glory. In the infancy of society, this commission, 
given to courage by morality, supplied the place of codes, 
and of civil authority. For the same reason the commis- 
sion is revived in times of trouble and disorder ; consoling 
human nature by creating illustrious private virtues, in the 
midst of public calamities. In proportion as society is re- 
formed or restored, this duty, once laid upon all the good, 
progressively concentrates in magistrates ; and hence the 
majesty and holiness of their office. Magistrates are the 
representatives and organs of public virtue ; their authority 
is but a sacred duty ; they carry in their hands the holy 



JUSTICE. 23 

cup, which contains the greatest blessing of society, secu- 
rity and peace ; and justice becomes in their persons an ac- 
tive, energetic, untiring power. But it will only acknowl- 
edge him as its minister who imbibes its spirit, and who is 
generous as well as severe. It will not place its rights in 
impure hands. It will even impose silence upon the most 
lawful affections of his heart ; for private affections would 
endanger that impartiality, which must protect equal rights. 
It req;.lr,o much of him personally ; sometimes to be inac- 
cessible even to pity. 

As the civil authority is the delegate of public justice, so 
thji political authority directs social equity, by distributing 
the benefit which society designs for its members. It should 
be no respecter of persons, or rather its liberality should be 
particularly bestowed upon those who need it most ; but to 
the virtues of the magistrate the administrator should join 
that ardent zeal, that eager solicitude, which anticipates 
wants, and multiplies and prepares means of relief. The 
magistrate preserves, but it is for the administrator to cre- 
ate ; and the Love of Excellence should be the genius which 
inspires his creations. 

The private life of the magistrate and administrator, i& 
the pledge of their fidelity in the exercise of their important 
offices. Private virtues add to the salutary effect of the de- 
crees of the one, and of the deeds of the other. It is not 
enough that the forms of justice and equity are observed ;. 
the sentiment ought to be propagated in all hearts ; these 
words should excite faith, whenever they are heard. The 
organs of public power, should therefore find their means of 
success in the reputation they enjoy, and in the confidence 
they inspire. They should do more than repress or regulate 
individual actions, — they should anticipate them, and provide 
for them beforehand ; and, as worthy interpreters of good laws, 
it is theirs to lay the foundations of a sound public morality.* 

* We may imprison him who injures us ; but when an enemy is de- 
fenceless, he disarms our resistance, and his inferiority recommends hiia 



24 SELF-EDUCATION. 



CHAPTER III. 

HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE PURIFIES THE AFFECTIONS. 

What is it to love? Can the heart that does not know 
virtue, know how to love truly 1 Does that attraction, which 
we feel towards the objects of our affections, deserve the 
name of love, if we are not attached to the good which is in 
them? 

Love includes a mysterious sense, which corresponds to 
all that is most excellent in our nature. The love of our 
fellow-men is essentially moral ; it is an overflowing and 
delicate sentiment, almost self-forgetfulness ; an ardent de- 
sire for the happiness of others, a wish to sacrifice ourselves 
without restriction or reserve, to conceal sacrifice by sacri- 
ficing, and to deprive ourselves even of gratitude. It is im- 
possible for love to arise, and be fully developed, in a soul 
unacquainted with morality. The sages of antiquity, struck 
with the universal power of love, but still more with the 
perfection of its pi-inciple, sought an origin for it beyond 
our nature, and assigned to it a divine character ; thus fore- 
seeing a truth, which Christianity has fully brought to light. 
A heart filled with the love of man, feels, at the sight of 
whatever is excellent, an emotion like that which the sweet 
remembrances of infancy cause ; or like a traveller at the 
sight of his native land. 

to our regard. Nothing then authorizes the odious oppression of slavery : 
— and especially, nothing authorizes it toward those whom we have no 
pretence for considering our enemies. — How can a man become the 
property of another man ? The right of property results from natural 
equality alone : it is the consequence of reciprocal independence, and of 
the primitive right which the Creator has given to each one over himself. 
He, then, who would refuse such a right to his fellow-being, would deny 
his own rights in their principle. There is no lawful or possible prop- 
erty over an individual, because every individual is his own property, — 
and this, before there were any other things. 



LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 25 

Love is a kind of union between natural affection and 
virtue. In this noble union, virtue brings as a dowry its 
own elevation, stability, and light ; its treasures and its 
charms. It delivers natural affection from agitating anxie- 
ties, and injurious exactions ; communicates to it a singu- 
lar frankness and fulness, an exquisite suavity; raises it to 
all the dignity of reason ; and, by animating it with the 
liberty which quickens itself, associates our affections with 
merit. 

Natural inclinations are unsteady, because they are blind; 
and are dissipated with the illusions which excited and 
cherished them ; they are enfeebled and exhausted by pos- 
session, and disenchanted by habit. But Virtue, ever 
young, renews them incessantly, renders them constant as 
truth, holy as wisdom, and places round them an immuta- 
ble guard. While appearing to moderate their transports, 
it preserves the secret fire of their energy ; by a provident 
economy, it restrains them, so as to make them more last- 
ing, and refuses them only what would expose them to the 
bitterness of regret, and to mistakes, which are the conse- 
quences of error. There is almost always a secret self-inter- 
est in simple natural affection ; and hence the restless jeal- 
ousy, which is alarmed at rival affections, because it wishes 
to possess alone ; which regards as infidelity, every thing 
which is granted to others ; which always doubts, because 
there is no security for the monopoly to which it pretends. 
In virtuous love, on the contrary, entirely forgetting our- 
selves, we only exist in the beloved object, enjoying what 
we see him acquire, congratulating ourselves in the tri- 
umphs and affections he obtains, because they are just ; 
while the self-approval which accompanies us gives us an en- 
tire security. Instinctive inclination consumes itself in agi- 
tation, while true love is nourished and rendered calm by 
exercise. The former has its tortures, which often make 
the sensibility of the heart the poison of human life ; the 
3 



26 SELF-EDUCATION. 

latter has celestial joys, which calm all fear, and make us 
forget all trouble. 

Self-interest arms instinctive inclinations with envy, 
hatred, and injustice, towards every thing which is foreign 
to their objects ; enriching the beloved, rather with the 
spoils of others than with its own gifts. Hence, the hostile 
dispositions, which are often found connected with warm 
affections, corrupt the character. But true love has no 
need of refusing to other men the affection which it grants 
to the privileged person ; for it draws from a source which 
cannot be exhausted. Its benevolence has all the calmness 
and security of the principle which is its life ; it does not 
wage war without ; it is nourished by all the affections, 
which, derived from the same origin, preserve the same 
character. Just in its preferences, it is also just towards 
those who are strangers to this preference ; for it is not an 
exclusion, but a choice. Inclination shuts itself up in a 
limited circle ; love spreads itself abroad ; inclination is 
associated with the passions ; love is the companion of duty. 

The offerings of inclination are not sufficiently abundant 
and elevated to satisfy love, which would give without ceas- 
ing. It is true, that the transitory gifts of earth are rarely 
in the power of love, and can be conferred but once; but 
virtue yields treasures of an' infinite value, which can be 
diffused perpetually ; viz. consolation, counsel, and exam- 
ple. The noblest gift which a man can offer to another, is 
confidence ; and this receives its value from virtue alone. 
Can the heart, which virtue does not animate, open itself 
with entire unreserve ? How can we reveal ourselves to 
another, when we dare not do so to ourselves. 

When poets have desired to paint the most exalted senti- 
ment which can take possession of the heart, in which 
nature seems to display all its power, and which most calls 
forth the imagination and the senses, they have never dared 
to present its image separated from that of virtue : they too 
well know whence comes the life which should animate 



LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 27 

their pictures. These pictures have been reproduced in all 
ages, and in all languages been exhausted, and yet no hu- 
man voice has been able to exhaust the emotions which 
await the pure and innocent soul, when it meets on earth 
that soul, which it has sought all over the earth, and chooses 
among a thousand ! 

This love, unknown to the world, this treasure of hopes, 
nobler than all the promises of earth, is it not the morning 
of a better life 1 It seems to render virtue more beautiful, 
by rendering it accessible to the conceptions of feeble hu- 
manity, and revealing all the faculties of our nature. Con- 
secrated by virtue, it triumphs over destiny, and keeps 
united those whom the chances of life separate, or permits 
them to be happy together, with a happiness, though seri- 
ous, full of charms ; for there is happiness in sacrificing 
themselves together to the laws of duty ; and even hard 
necessity, explained to the disciple of virtue as a decree of 
Providence, loses its tyrannical character, and finds sub- 
mission, where it might have produced despair. 

Virtue, like a tender and vigilant mother, takes care of 
this sentiment, so liable to go astray, by putting it under 
the safeguard of severe manners. The interpreter of nature, 
it makes it the precursor of family affections, and continues 
to connect with it the sweet bonds, by which new affections 
are developed. To the paternal roof it carries household 
gods. Where it appears, all is life and peace ; a new lan- 
guage is established between hearts which already know so 
well how to understand each other. Two beings whose 
alliance is contracted under such auspices, are associated 
to become better ; when advanced in the career of life, they 
encourage and reward each other by turns, mingling noble 
sentiments and good actions, and adding this rich inheri-r 
tance to the common patrimony. The look which they 
cast upon their children, animated by the celestial love of 
excellence, and more eloquent even than the maternal eye 
when it beams all its tenderness, expresses a gentle pride 



28 SELF-EDUCATION, 

and elevated hopes, calling these dear beings into the paths 
of goodness, and seeing them enter with innocent joy. How 
beautiful is the family concert with its harmonizing voices ! 
How beautiful the celestial ray, which illumines the family 
group, descending upon this masterpiece of nature ! The 
Love of Excellence has the peculiar power of giving charms 
to what seems most common. The minute details, the daily 
and habitual duties, which make up domestic life, and which 
habit might render monotonous ; which would destroy in- 
stinctive affection, and disenchant the illusions of imagina- 
tion ; receive an ever-renewing interest and charm from the 
Love of Excellence ; offering to it occasions for self-sacri- 
fice, constant and unobserved, 4 both in the present and 
future. Equity, confidence, and gratitude are there found 
mingled every moment, under a thousand forms, the veil of 
obscurity, which covers all these treasures, rendering them 
still more precious by keeping them pure. They exist for 
all, and particularly in the humblest dwelling ; for the less 
we participate in earthly good, the more we can devote our- 
selves to one another, by mutual sacrifices, and the ineffable 
gifts of the heart. 

" There is friendship only among the good," said Cicero, 
whose meditations were enlightened by so great an experi- 
ence of human things. Not that, beside simple associations 
formed for interest, there may not be established also a 
secret union of hearts, nourished by reciprocal and sincere 
devotion, of which the wicked themselves are sometimes 
capable. Conformity of taste, and the relations of habit, 
create a kind of friendship, to which the laws of opinion 
give a foundation, and which cannot be relinquished with- 
out shame ; to which honor imparts a strength and con- 
stancy, that feeling would not always be sufficient to pre- 
serve to them. But still this union is superficial. The Love 
of Excellence alone makes an intimate alliance of souls, be- 
cause this alone brings to the alliance all that is noblest 
and deepest in the human faculties. When beings, who are 



LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 29 

destined to be blessed with real friendship, meet for the first 
time in the world, does it not seem that they recognise each 
other, as if an indistinct presentiment had announced them 
to one another ? It is because each finds in the other some 
traits of that excellence, which was already the object of his 
devotion ; and on the friend thus chosen is bestowed a por- 
tion of this devotion. A man may thus conceive for another 
a gratitude far superior to that which any other benefit 
could inspire ; for he may have received from him the ben- 
efit of his own improvement. 

There is always a just timidity in regard to the internal 
assent of our own conscience ; its approbation does not sat- 
isfy us entirely, unless it is echoed by a friend. We may 
confide our faults in a superficial friendship ; but it is merely 
to succeed in excusing them to ourselv.es, or, perhaps, it is 
to associate others with the passions which have caused 
them. In true friendship, we confide them with an exqui- 
site pleasure, partly, that we may amend them, and partly, 
to relieve our heart from the weight of remorse, not by 
stifling it, but by finding aid in repentance : it is an atone- 
ment and a consolation at the same time. It is true, that 
friendship would not consent that mutual sacrifices should 
be considered as obedience to the laws of duty ; it rather 
conceives them the exercise of a privilege. But in the sen- 
timent of duty it finds a principle of faithfulness, which 
gives it a new security, as in the Love of Excellence it finds 
a kind of consecration. There is but one purer joy in 
friendship, than to see one whom we love do a noble action, 
— the pleasure of sharing it. 

We have seen how the concentric circles, which compose 
the different orders of communities, in the bosom of human 
society, when self-interest is our inspiration, are only orbits 
where is displayed a kind of collective selfishness ; but sub- 
stitute the Love of Excellence for this principle, and all 
these communities, instead of declaring war against each 
other, and putting themselves in a posture of defence, will 
3* 



30 SELF-EDUCATION. 

be but one continued alliance, progressively developed upon 
the largest scale: a family bears the image of country; 
and, as the same sentiment presides over the successive 
associations, and brings the same influences, different com- 
munities are united in general society, by the same bond 
which attaches their members to one another. And as the 
Love of Excellence quickens domestic affection by private 
virtues, so by public virtues it will quicken devotion to 
one's country. We perceive the image of our country, 
standing upon the land and in the places where we received 
life ; we hear its voice resound in the accents of our native 
tongue ; for these maternal signs recount all its favors, — 
the education it has given, the protection with which it 
surrounds us, the laws which have been a kind of external 
lesson of morality, and the noble examples, which teach us 
still more. We must learn then how to love it, and to serve 
it, in a spirit conformable to such recollections. When 
called to the honor of serving it in deed, we must have a 
conscience in politics, as we have a conscience in private 
life ; and our conscience in politics will be the highest de- 
gree of justice, as well as of devotion. But the first sacri- 
fice, which love of country will require, is perhaps that for 
which we are least prepared, — the sacrifice of personal 
vanity and ambitious passions, and of that party spirit, 
which, by creating private coalitions in the bosom of gen- 
eral union, just sunders what it should unite. 

Our country, without betraying what it owes to itself, 
cannot admit those to the honor of serving it, who do not 
obtain, from the Love of Excellence, this conscientious and 
consequently disinterested patriotism. Li free states, all 
the citizens share the same honor, according to their rela- 
tive capacities ; and liberty expects and supposes the devo- 
tion of all to the public good ; and, as it subsists only upon 
generous sentiments, so nothing is more favorable to keep 
up such sentiments in the heart. Liberty recognises its true 
friends in men of an elevated and truly honorable life only : 



LOVE OF EXCELLENCE. 31 

its cause is better served by the example of good actions, 
than by the most eloquent discourses. In vain we may im- 
agine the most learned combinations to supply the place of 
this disinterested devotion. If eagerness for personal enjoy- 
ment has relaxed public morals, the genius of selfishness, 
more skilful than that of the legislator, will deceive all cal- 
culations ; for each one will study to sacrifice the least pos- 
sible, in obtaining the greatest part of the common profit ; 
and seeing nothing more certain than the present, when the 
country expects every thing from the future, will calculate 
too well, that power is the great instrument of satisfaction. 
Hence, when power is in question, there will be violent dis- 
pute ; when it is confirmed, there will be base flattery. 
Liberty can never be established, where cold self-interest is 
extolled, where disinterestedness and self-forgetfulness are 
thought to be illusions, or turned into ridicule. Athens had 
its laws, but it lost its liberty as soon as it listened to soph- 
ists. 

As the progress of civilization takes from patriotism that 
savage character which treated every stranger as an enemy, 
and makes people understand that there is a great and indis- 
soluble brotherhood between them ; so, also, the progress of 
the Love of Excellence teaches individuals to extend over 
all mankind those generous affections, which are already 
exercised in the private circle. The more enlarged the 
soul becomes by lofty inspirations, the more capable it is of 
embracing, in the sphere of its devotion, all those whose 
happiness it can promote. From the mouth of the author 
of ''Emile" those words came, which were received with so 
much eagerness by narrow hearts, and raised by them into 
an axiom ; " The friend of humanity must be the friend of no 
individual." Surely he misunderstood the love of man, 
although he so many times lent his eloquent voice to the 
cause of virtue ; or he calumniated human nature, as he 
also calumniated civilization, when in his sad and gloomy 
humors he seemed to fly from truth purposely, and take de- 



33 SELF-EDUCA'TION. 

light in paradox. O may that hypocrisy of generosity be 
condemned, which ' feels for every thing except that which 
is in contact with it ! ' The rays of the sun traverse the 
spheres which surround it, aUhough they reach far off into 
space. The name of human race does not express a cold 
abstraction merely ; nor do our fellow creatures cease to be 
so, because they bear an unknown name ; nor do the ser- 
vices we render them lose their value, because a great 
number enjoy them. Were Vincent de Paule, who adopted 
unknown and forsaken children, and loaded himself with 
the irons of the guilty, — and Howard, who traversed the 
world, seeking the unfortunate to console, and the repent- 
ant to encourage, — were these men flattered with idle 
speculations 1 If we are incapable of understanding how 
the living principle, which quickens all private affections, is 
the same which creates such glorious enterprises as these, 
it is because we do not understand love, and conceive 
private affections to be only the impulse of an instinc- 
tive sympathy. Those who truly love, go from the intimate 
communion of friendship, still more ardent to consecrate 
themselves to the happiness of their race ; and returning 
from the labor of this great task, enjoy intimacy with more 
delight. The means of contributing to it are indeed spar- 
ingly given to the ordinary conditions of life ; fortune favors 
those to whom it has granted a larger share of influence 
over the destiny of others. But what is the need of waiting 
for this influence from the favors of fortune ? Has not God 
bestowed power upon the obscurest individual, who is cloth- 
ed with no authority, and disposes of no treasure, but to 
whom the Love of Excellence is enough to accomplish a 
work, which the great of the earth have rarely attempted ? 
At his voice, in his presence, sentiments arise in the heart, 
which are worthy of answering to his own ; he moves 
€very thing by the strength of the conviction with which he 
is filled ; useful establishments, dedicated to science and 
virtue, adorning society much better than the monuments of 



GOODNESS OF HEART. 33 

art, rise up at his bidding ,• the example of his good actions 
is transmitted to posterity ; from one extremity of the globe 
to the other he finds emulators. While political passions 
divide the great human family, the votaries of excellence, in 
the midst of the tumult, still prepare the blessings of peace, 
and relieve the victims of discord. 

O you, to whom this magnificent mission is entrusted, be 
not cheeked by the icy opinions of a world which,does not 
understand you ! Disdain the maxims of that fglse wisdom, 
which pretends to class the end to which you lispire with 
chimeras ; and dare to exercise a love beyondl their com- 
prehension. Courageous missionaries of truth [and benefi- 
cence ! continue to distribute every where thdse salutary 
fruits, to scatter afar and around you their seedi, adopting 
beforehand all future generations, by a paternity of soul ! 
At the sight of you, selfishness is astonished and irritated ; 
and although frivolous vanity may not even perceive you, 
the good honor you, and posterity will bless you ; for his- 
tory, at last, as its most worthy ministry, will honor itself, 
by honoring the memory of those whom Heaven alone can 
adequately reward ! 



CHAPTER IV. 



GOODNESS OF HEART. 



Op all traits of character, there is none so well under- 
stood, and so generally agreed upon, as goodness of heart. 
Our ideas of justice are modified by interest, party spirit, 
;and prejudice; but goodness of heart unites all suffrages. 
lit clashes with no interest, always giving and never taking 
iaway, and is never severe even under injury. Moreover, 
[the weaker we are, the more we feel its value, for the more 



34 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



we receive its protection ; we do not merely behold it, we 
are affected by it. We may judge of it without profound- 
ness of understanding, or prior experience; indeed we feel 
and enjoy it, rather than judge of it. Finding ourselves at 
ease under its influence, we are ever charmed at its ap- 
proach. In its simplicity and truth, it attracts admiration, 
while it escapes envy, and disarms criticism. Is there a 
state of society in which good nature, or goodness of heart 
united to candor, may be exposed to ridicule ? Are there 
men so degenerate as to fancy themselves high enough to 
disdain it ? O then may an enlightened and general phi- 
losophy take its name, reestablish it in honor, confide it 
to true hearts, and shelter it from the profanations of levity 
and selfishness ! 

Among the ancients, goodness had a deeper meaning 
than with us ; it expressed attachment to virtue itself, in- 
cluding benevolence towards other men as its consequence. 
This definition is also the only just one. Attachment to 
virtue itself should never be separated from benevolence 
towards man, or we take from goodness its moral character, 
and consequently the fruitful principle from which all its 
efforts proceed. Goodness of heart is accompanied by so in- 
genuous a manner, that we are commonly led to take it for 
an entirely natural disposition ; and this is so true, that 
those to whom we attribute a goodness that is rather acquir- 
ed than innate, sometimes think the praise is weakened, as 
if our supposition caused a doubt about their sincerity ; and 
that, in implying merit, we necessarily suppose art. The 
truth is, nature does invite us to be good, and did we but 
listen, we might without effort follow its advice, and, it would 
seem like yielding to inclination. But this happy disposi- 
tion is but too soon corrupted by the numerous solicitations 
of personal feeling, or the influences of worldly intercourse, 
and especially by the inquietudes of self-love. It is there- 
fore necessary that the Love of Excellence should attack 
these destructive agents in their principle, in order to pre- 



GOODNESS OF HEART. 35 

sel*Ve and build up the work of nature. Several instinctive 
inclinations, which take the form of goodness of heart, might 
also, by being confounded with it, turn it from its end and 
destroy its character. In distinguishing true goodness of 
heart from false, we discover, that the first springs from a 
reflective principle. He only has real goodness of heart 
who feels deeply what is praiseworthy in itself, and with 
whom goodness is not only a quality but a virtue. There 
is something which passes for goodness of heart, that is in 
reality weakness; it is unequal and idle; being rather an 
ostentatious display than positive action ; this is when good 
will is abandoned to a blind guide, which does not proceed 
from the depth of the soul, but springs from mere tempera- 
ment and humor. 

Weakness resembles goodness of heart in not loving to 
refuse solicitation ; but goodness of heart goes farther ; it 
seeks the needy, and anticipates solicitation ; yet it can re- 
fuse when service can be done by refusal. Weakness re- 
sembles goodness of heart in not desiring to irritate ; but 
this condescension is servile, and springs only from fear ; it 
dares not contradict : while the condescension of goodness 
of heart springs from fearing to injure ; it does not fear to 
displease ; it can face resistance to carry relief, and in its 
zeal conquers every thing. Weakness is moved in favor 
of the fortunate and powerful; while goodness of heart in- 
terposes with courage between the force which oppresses and 
the forsaken being who yields to force ; braving every thing 
when it may protect. 

Nor is it to be really benevolent, to be so towards some 
persons, or in some instances only. The nature of goodness 
of heart is to be as universal as it is constant. Other virtues 
permit repose after effort, and are only exercised at times ; 
goodness of heart neither admits of relaxation, nor has ex- 
traordinary flights ; resembling justice in making no excep- 
tion of persons, and its only preferences being in favor of 
those who suffer, or who have need of support ; as if it were 



36 SELF-EDUCATION. 

sent by Providence to restore the equilibrium, that is dis- 
turbed by the chances of human life. Goodness of heart is 
a domestic virtue ; it always dwells with us ; especially in the 
most familiar, habitual, and obscure relations of life, and 
this is what renders it most difficult. We are opposed and 
deceived by men, by events, by all that is external ; and 
within, a thousand secret causes excite discontent and cha- 
grin. How, under so many capricious influences, can this 
equable disposition be preserved 1 There is only one way : 
we must deliver the soul itself from internal agitation, di- 
rect our eyes incessantly to a horizon more elevated than 
the scene of daily circumstances, and live in that region 
of Love whence flows unmingled serenity. Truth and duty 
are alone immutable, and nothing is sustained in the charac- 
ter, which is not founded on them. There is no perfect 
consistency, but that which rests upon enlightened convic- 
tion ; even habit is not enough, for habit, being connected 
with daily circumstances, is disconcerted by unexpected 
temptations. 

The man, who lavishes external professions, may deceive 
himself, as well as those to whom he addresses them. He 
may really feel at the moment what he expresses, although 
he does not foresee what he may be called upon to do, to 
prove their reality : the sacrifice is not yet present to his 
thoughts. At the sight of a fellow-being, the first emotion 
of all of us can be no other than a spontaneous sentiment of 
benevolence, which bursts forth of itself. The profession 
of this, however, becomes a deceitful promise, and produces 
hollow words, when goodness has not those deep roots in j 
the heart, which the love of virtue would implant there. 1 

Goodness of heart is eager to act and produce ; it seeks 
not its own gratification, or the suffrage of others, but the 
real fruits, which are to conduce to the general happiness. 
It has an industry which is peculiar to itself, inexhausti- 
ble in invention and resources. The good nature which 
stops at external professions, is often but the desire to please, 



GOODNESS OF HEART. 37 

the offspring of vanity, coveting the honors of goodness of 
heart, without accepting its burthens ; or a kind of selfish- 
ness, which has recourse to false allurements, that it may 
obtain the easier conquest. Goodness of heart is not in the 
least mercenary ; it might be called impartial and general 
generosity. It does not aspire to be noticed ; it even loves 
to disguise itself, and hardly is conscious of its own existence. 
It does not repel gratitude, while gratitude presents itself 
as a return for affection ; but it flies from it, when it takes 
the form of acquittal of debt. Such a mercenary return 
would take away both its enjoyment and its merit. Good- 
ness of heart can be generous, even in consenting to accept 
a service ; for to please others sometimes involves sacrific- 
ing one's pride ; and we must feel within us a very great 
depth of love, to bind ourselves to be grateful, A feeling of 
just dignity sometimes makes us refuse a benefit, but there 
are those who refuse because they have too narrow hearts 
to pledge themselves to be grateful. 

Far from being liberal with professions like the worldly, 
the good often seem sparing of them. They avoid all kind 
of ostentation. They have a certain gravity and reserve; 
and being occupied with p^n all-absorbing sentiment, they 
are sometimes even rough and severe : to the superficial 
they may appear cold, but every thing betrays them to the 
eyes of the attentive. He who understands them from sym- 
pathy, sees that they are quiet to meditate and prepare their 
touching dispensations ; that they are collecting themselves 
to act. They are serious, because they are true ; and 
when they break silence, their words are actions, that 
have an unexpected value and power, penetrating to the 
depth of the soul, and carrying confidence and repose ; 
appeasing the storms of passion, and soothing the deep- 
est sorrows. Justice may give to society that imperfect 
peace, w^hich consists in the cessation from war : it is 
I contented with staying the arms of men, that are ready 
I to injure one another. Goodness of heart consummates 
I 4 



da SELF-EDUCATION. 

the treaty, by extinguishing animosities, and inviting men 
to help each other. The cahnness of its innocence is dif- 
fused over every thing around. Its attractive povv^er draws 
after it the beings whom it envelopes ; uniting them to 
each other by the same tie, with which it binds them ta 
itself. Justice says, " Lay down your arms ; " goodness of 
heart says, " Love one another." Beneficence relieves in- 
digence ; goodness of heart has comfort for all the troubles 
of the soul; it is the angel of consolation and hope; it does 
more than relieve misfortune, it teaches how to support it ; 
it reanimates the being, who is laid low by adversity, com- 
municating to him its own moral life ; it bestows upon men 
the greatest of blessings, it makes them love virtue. 

From that active industry, which goodness of heart inces- 
santly creates, and from that desire that it has of remaining 
unknown, arises the delicacy which is its ornament and dis- 
tinctive sign. With. what a true instinct the good discern 
what may be useful to or what may please another ; and 
how they may conceal their own movements from those 
whom they serve ! What value, consequently, they give to 
the slightest things ! making them agreeable and elevated 
in proportion as they communicate to them all their worth. 
We recognise goodness of heart by those little evidences of 
foresight, which tender affection or perfect disinterestedness 
alone can suggest ; as we detect the hand of the great artist 
by certain strokes, which, though mere touches, betray pro- 
found meditation on the beautiful. 

There are three emanations from the vital principle of 
goodness of heart; tolerance, indulgence, and condescen- 
sion ; in all of which the Love of Excellence triumphs over 
the greatest barriers that separate men. Men are liable to 
confound tolerance with indulgence : sometimes thinking 
themselves indulgent when they only tolerate ; sometimes 
excusing themselves for being intolerant, under the pretext 
of being just. Tolerance is only patience in bearing what 
opposes inclination, taste, opinion, or habits ; while indul- 



GOODNESS OF HEART. 39 

gence is the disposition to pardon injuries. Now self-love 
inclines men to think that others injure, when they oppose 
them. And as they condemn, as so many errors, the opin- 
ions which differ from their own ; so they condemn, as so 
many failings and faults, the actions which displease, or even 
the little instances of neglect, which incommode them. 
The intolerant man thinks himself better than his fellows, 
or at least wishes to appear so ; he is severe, that he may 
have a right to be harsh ; he wishes to be honored for his 
very exactions, and to command the respect of others even 
in satisfying his own inclinations. The love of power, aris- 
ing from a blind pride, makes use of intolerance as the 
most effectual instrument to work out its ends; and thus it 
becomes the tyranny of selfishness. 

Intolerance takes its haughty and intractable character 
from pride as a fountain ; and because it is pride in action, 
it is also irritable, and easily disturbed by what is most 
harmless ; it considers independence as a revolt against 
its pretensions ; raises itself into a rule ; takes the form of 
law, and endeavours to raise a sense of obligation as a 
means of power. Equity and the most rigorous equity, can 
alone prevent such usurpation ; for tolerance is a recogni- 
tion of that independence, which is equally granted to all 
men. And what is our title to this superiority, in which 
we dare to take pride ? Presumptuous confidence in our 
own reason is rather a probable indication of error, than a 
title to the confidence of others ; for it is the most frequent 
cause of error, and the most common obstacle to the discov- 
ery of truth. Truth and wisdom do not recognise their 
disciples by that bitter and absorbing zeal, which, so far 
from serving their cause, makes it misunderstood, and 
would render it odious, if it were possible, by substituting 
oppression and violence for the gentle influence of enlight- 
ened and free conviction. Now pride destroys the senti- 
ment of this equity, and proscribes the maxims of good 
sense ; and so deeply does tolerance wound pride in its 



40 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



last recesses, that it alone among the virtues, has been de- 
nied the name of a virtue, by means of paradoxes, elevated 
into doctrines. The tolerance, which bears faults of char- 
acter, has even been recommended beyond that which bears 
opinions, although faults of character are in themselves 
always reprehensible, while opinions are free, and even false 
ones may be sincere. But we submit much sooner to be 
wounded in our interests, than in our vanity ; and tolerance 
of opposite opinions is freedom from the most subtle vanity. 
Tolerance has open and arrogant enemies, whom its gen- 
tleness, and patience, and calmness cannot disarm, but 
seem to encourage, and whom its name alone seems to of- 
fend as a reproach. Do we not see crowds of servile beings 
range themselves round the oppressor, and against that vir- 
tue which would protect them ? O let goodness of heart 
arm itself with courage, and employ all its power to destroy 
this offspring of human vanity, and to dissipate the fatal in- 
toxication of those men, who are so preoccupied with them- 
selves ! Let it unveil this selfishness ; let it attack it in 
this new retreat, where it strengthens itself to go out, con- 
queror and persecutor ; that truth and goodness, honored for 
their own sake, and by a reverence worthy of them, may 
not be profaned by becoming the instruments of ambitious 
passion ! Learning to live in others, let us learn to com- 
prehend, that their tastes, ideas, and caprices, perhaps 
even their prejudices, have a right to our regard ; that the 
uneasiness and restraint, which they impose upon us, are 
a sacrifice which we owe them. Let us learn how to free 
ourselves from the exactions, that our own habits have im- 
posed upon us. Then, without knovv^ing it, and without 
pretending to it, we shall perhaps more easily, and at least 
much more lawfully, obtain that influence which v/e are so 
eager to exercise ; and our influence will be respected, 
because it will be founded upon confidence. The art of 
persuading supposes the art of entering into the senti- 
ments of others, rather than that of transmitting the sen- 



GOODNESS OF HEART. 41 

timents which we wish them to adopt. Even if we have 
the eye of the most experienced observer, with difficulty 
we escape from that natural disposition of the mind, which 
makes us judge of others by ourselves. We only know 
those well whom we love, and the love of man is the guid- 
ing light to the knowledge of the human heart. We some- 
times submit to the self-interested, if they are powerful and 
strong ; but we only trust those, who are animated by a 
sincere zeal for the interests of others. 

Men are generally more indulgent to the faults which 
offend the laws of morality, than those which offend them- 
selves. The first indulgence is easier, and costs little ; it 
is however less just. We have a right to forgive what per- 
sonally attacks us, — a noble prerogative of which goodness 
of heart shows us all the value. Even selfish morality coun- 
sels us to refrain from revenge, when it cannot obtain sat- 
isfaction ; and exercises external pa,rdon, when he who 
grants it may profit by the gratitude of him who receives 
it ; but the pardon of the heart, the sacrifice of all secret 
resentment, — what power can produce it, if it be not that 
of an essentially generous sentiment, which renders us ca- 
pable of an entire self-forgetfulness ? Simple natural affec- 
tion enjoys the power of relieving from the weight of regret 
the friend who has wounded us ; renewing the bond which the 
offence has broken, and making it still clossr. It is pleas- 
ant to open our arms to him, who has been separated from us 
a moment, and to give assurance to him, whom our presence 
disturbed. The joy of two fellow-countrymen who meet in 
a remote country is less transporting than the reconciliation 
of two brothers. But if the author of the offence is himself 
without regret, and the pardon is to remain unknown, even 
to him who receives it ; or if it is without value in his eyes ; 
a more elevated motive v/ill be necessary for a generosity 
which finds no recompense but in itself Now there is 
nothing more frequent ; — for a kind of generosity is also 
requisite to accept a pardon, and jt is often received with 
4* 



42 SELF-EDUCATION. 

less gratitude than a simple favor. Nothing troubles men 
more, than what reveals to them their own faults, because 
they are humiliated by them. The indulgence is repelled, 
which if it do not contain a reproach, at least contains a 
censure ; we might even say that we would rather pardon 
others the offences we have received from them, than the 
misfortune of having been exposed to our own injustice ; 
we revenge upon them the remorse that torments ourselves, 
or we seek to turn aside its point, to justify ourselves in 
our own eyes, by finding those guilty, whom we have in- 
jured. Often we were only imprudent in wounding them, 
and became unjust through the pride which wished to ex- 
cuse itself. 

To remember an offence, after having pardoned it, is a 
thing which can be reconciled doubtless with sincere par- 
don, and may even reproduce and continue its generosity. 
Yet perfect goodness of heart requires an entire forgetful- 
ness of the offence ; the indulgence, which cannot be ac- 
companied by forgetfulness, is not sufficiently secure ; it 
seems to threaten some return of resentment ; it would be 
a sort of ostentation of virtue to repeat the pardon every 
day. The delicacy of goodness refuses to carry so far the 
merit of its liberality ; it effaces from the memory the re- 
membrance of wrongs. 

How serious do vices and simple failings appear in those 
we do not love ! and how excusable they seem if we ftnd 
them in our friends ! Thus we bend morality to the pleas- 
ure of our affections, when our affections ought to acknowl- 
edge the supremacy of morality. 

The judgment which an impartial and disinterested spec- 
tator passes upon a fault, committed by another man, is a 
complex judgment, including the appreciation of a duty 
which has been violated, and an opinion upon the culpabili- 
ty of him who has erred. Worldly indulgence confounds 
these two things : having easy notions of duty, it consents 
to be less severe upon persons. Still we must be thankful 



GOODNESS OF HEAIIT. 43 

to it for this concession ; for there is nothing so common, 
in the world, as the union of great weakness in principle 
and great rigor in application. By the first, self-condemna- 
tion is avoided ; by the second, the pleasure ofcensurincr 
is reserved, by which vanity is highly gratified ; for in 
censuring others we always exalt ourselves. It is quite 
otherwise with virtuous indulgence ; this decides with re- 
pugnance, and cautiously passes sentences which affect 
individuals. It can compassionate weakness, unsteadi- 
ness, and ignorance ; but a holy indignation takes pos- 
session of it at the presence of vice : the Love of Excel- 
lence, which is its principle, is also the horror of evil. We 
must, therefore, know how to excuse those who err, without 
letting our earnestness for the cause of duty abalB, Power, 
fortune, and glory are titles to favor with worldly indul- 
gence, which easily excuses brilliant faults, and those which 
are followed by success ; and even pardons the corruption 
which is accompanied by spirit and gracefulness. Virtuous 
indulgence does not admit of this compromise. Vice, in 
its eyes, is never in good taste. It revolts against it when 
powerful by force or by opinion ; for though generous, it is 
neither fawning nor mercenary. It reserves itself for those, 
who, having less understanding and assistance, are more 
excusable ; and for those whose examples are less contagious. 
The indulgence of virtue goes further still ; the crimi- 
nal himself, avowed and acknowledged as such, is not ex- 
cluded from it; in him it still sees a man, and of all men 
the most unfortunate ; in his heart it perceives the power 
of repentance; while assisting him, it conceives the hope of 
producing a kind of moral ressurrection ; it has affections 
pure and generous enough to penetrate the impure atmo- 
sphere of crime, and into the corrupted heart, to diffuse heal- 
ing influences. Even in those cases where human justice 
must punish, virtuous indulgence may compassionate ; re- 
animating, reconciling, and bringing back in triumph a 
conquest to human nature. Thus goodness of heart is 



44 SfiLI^-EDUCATlON. 

heroic also, descending into the dungeons to which society 
has banished those whom it rejects. In the midst of those 
^degenerate beings, it truly appears a messenger from Heav- 
en, promising and announcing the pardon which society 
refuses ; and teaching men to obtain from chastisement a 
means of expiation and reform. And is it impossible, that 
he whom it finds guilty, should become through repentance 
a model which the good themselves may emulate ? 

In these efforts to raise the criminal from the abyss of 
vice, the sublimest condescension is united with the hero- 
ism of indulgent goodness. Condescension is an emotion 
peculiar to the good, who love to stoop, that they may be 
within the reach of those with whom they communicate, 
and render the intercourse useful ; for we are only truly 
useful by the help of confidence ; and confidence is gained 
by making use of self-love, under the condition at least of 
an apparent equality. Zeal for excellence is therefore the 
inspiration of goodness of heart. Real superiority alone 
can stoop thus to raise to itself those with whom it com- 
municates. This is its privilege, and it is the only privilege 
which virtuous superiority accepts. Vain mediocrity tor- 
ments itself to attain a false elevation ; and brings down 
others, that it may be great by comparison. 

When condescension relieves misfortune, it avoids the 
forms of protection ; when it enlightens ignorance, it avoids 
dogmatism ; when it teaches duty, it softens its austerity ; 
and it becomes humble with the weak, as if it shared their 
weakness. To bear importunity without impatience, is a 
very obscure, but it is a very meritorious sacrifice, because 
very difficult, and very necessary ; but there is another, 
perhaps rarer and harder, which people of mind impose 
upon themselves, when they consent to bear the tedious 
conversation of common men ; this sacrifice has the more 
value, that it is more unknown, and is a secret which can- 
not be suspected by any but those who ha^e the courage 
to make it. Such a sacrifice, however, by men distinguished 



GOODNESS OF HEART. 



45 



for their mind and knowledge, is not only a praiseworthy 
action, but a real duty ; for it is the only way they can em- 
ploy the gifts, which have been bestowed upon them, in the 
service of others. We must be willing to grow weary with 
the ignorant, if we wish to enlighten them, and to keep up 
that intercourse of affection, which the feeling of superi- 
ority would infallibly destroy ; because superiority would 
touch upon that which would most effectually humiliate 
those whom we treat as inferiors. 

If goodness of heart seems to acquire a greater value in 
persons elevated in rank and dignity, it is because it sup- 
poses on their part a greater condescension. And station 
is a privilege indeed, when it becomes a means of rendering 
the images of goodness more perceptible to men ! But 
they alone obtain this privilege, whose condescension is 
derived from real goodness of heart. 

Is there not also a condescension of moral superiority 
which takes delight in disguising its own grandeur, without 
losing its dignity, and puts itself within reach of the weak, 
by seeming to become their equal, and thereby establishes 
with them an intercourse of confidence and freedom, that 
raises them insensibly to itself? There are some people 
who may seem good through artifice. And condescension, 
when inspired by goodness of heart, in its perfect disinter- 
estedness, practises what is suggested by the desire of 
popularity ; for as the great disguise themselves when they 
seek pleasure, so condescension is the recreation of virtue. 

It will be said, perhaps, that the subject we have just 
treated is exhausted. But he who thinks there is nothing 
more to be said about goodness of heart, if he meditate 
deeply upon this noble subject, and afterwards examine 
himself faithfully, will perhaps acknowledge, that there 
still remains much, in order to realize all which it compris- 
3s. "We may attain it by freeing ourselves from the obsta- 
cles and fetters which prevent it from being developed, 
'ather than by fatiguing ourselves by direct efforts to excite 



46 SELF-EDUCATION. 

it. The serenity, which a pure conscience diffuses in the 
soul, naturally disposes to benevolence ; nothing preventing 
us from being tolerant, indulgent, and condescending to oth- 
ers, so much as to be ill at ease vv^ith ourselves. 



CHAPTER V. 



OP FALSE SENSIBILITY. 



Some persons, who are good, do not seem to have much 
sensibility, and persons of sensibility are not always faithful 
to goodness of heart. These phenomena are explained 
by the preceding observations. Sensibility conduces to 
goodness of heart, but does not constitute it ; it is a gen- 
erous disposition natural to the affections : but goodness 
of heart requires something more than the affections ; its 
generosity is of a higher character in that it has a moral 
principle. We must take care lest we mistake for sensibility 
the signs which announce it ; for sometimes these signs are 
deceptive; there is a false sensibility which may be mistaken 
for the true, even by people themselves, and which serves 
too often as a mask for a real indifference of heart ; for 
those who are selfish in reality often have the credit of lib- 
eral affections ; to hear them, one might sometimes think 
they were sinking under the weight of oppressive emotions. 
Nor is this very wonderful ; for if the imagination easily 
deceives us about material and external facts, which we 
have the power to test, how much greater may be our delu- 
sions with respect to the purely internal phenomena which 
belong to the affections ! Within us, facts and images are 
placed on the same ground, and the means of distinguishing 
them are few, and not well known, nor easy to be employ- 
ed. Thus, exaltation of mind is often confounded with the 



FALSE SENSIBILITY. 47 

emotions of the soul, and a factitious softness with sincere 
affection. The heart often takes a less or greater part in 
these dispositions at their beginning ; but the imagination, 
when it takes possession of them, makes them unnatural. 

The first illusion, derived from this source is produced 
by the habit of occupying the imagination with persons and 
situations arbitrarily conceived ; of turning our eyes from 
the scenes of real life, and fixing them upon those of a 
purely ideal world. Nothing is easier than to create per- 
sons and situations most likely to excite warm interest ; 
and we may renew and redouble this interest by all kinds 
of anxieties, terrors^ and contrasts. As long as such an 
entertainment is regarded as a mere entertainment, it is 
innocent, and may sometimes be useful, being, as it were, 
an anticipated experience of life ; and if the creations bear 
any analogy with the real circumstances which await us,, 
they may prepare the heart for supporting and enjoying 
them. But it is very different if these pictures have na 
resemblance to events which may occur, or even if the di- 
mensions and coloring are exaggerated ; for when we return 
to the realities of life, every thing will appear colorless 
and cold. Whatever care may be taken to make these pic- 
tures like real life, from the very fact of their being pictures,, 
they lose those asperities, which wound us in our contact 
with things : the rock, though imperfectly polished by the 
chisel, seems smooth in the distance. The exertion the 
i mind makes, in conceiving them, communicates to them 
I an artificial brilliancy, which does not proceed from them- 
I selves, but from us. Our mind interposes a kind of medi- 
um, which, like the transparency of air or crystal, increases 
their brightness. They have a kind of lightness, which 
prevents us from foreseeing how heavy would be their reali- 
ty. They are transient, and do not try our constancy. 

It is to this disposition of mind, that we give the name of 
romantic sensibility ; it is a disposition especially cherished 
by the literature of the present day ,• it is also cherished by 



48 SELF-EDUCATION. 

that vague melancholy, which proceeds from satiety and 
from mistakes made in intercourse with the world. Anoth- 
er source of it is the secret desire for activity which cannot 
be satisfied. Many persons who are discontented with their 
situation, and confined by social bonds in the narrow limits 
of the condition which has fallen to their lot, seek refuge 
in an ideal world ; and this they do with ardor proportion- 
ate to their intellectual culture, and to the natural range of 
their afi'ections ; both of which render them more capable 
of comparing what they want with what they possess, and 
of feeling the immense disproportion. 

The Love of Excellence is the only preventive of these 
corruptions. Always guided by reason and seeking its light, 
it attaches itself to truth as to a duty ; and being constantly 
directed to what is practical, it is naturally brought back 
to the lessons of experience. It not only perceives the nat- 
ural interest of things, but it will sometimes animate what 
appeared cold and sad with thoughts which lead us to dis- 
cover an unknown value in it. It conceals by i1;s patience 
and indulgence what appears wounding and hard. It 
prevents or cures the moral diseases, which led us to have 
recourse to illusions as a relief It frees us from those 
vacant moments, which must be filled up at any rate. It 
converts into useful actions that secret inquietude, which 
torments and consumes a soul of great capacity, when it 
does not know and act itself out. It calms that discontent, 
which the sight of happier and more brilliant situations 
causes in those who are less favored ; inducing us to accept 
with resignation, and even with gratitude and joy, the more 
modest, but, perhaps, preferable rank, which Providence 
has assigned us ; and to that fruitless and gloomy melan- 
choly, which uneasiness of heart engenders, succeeds a 
more expansive and gentle sentiment. 

When we are tempted to complain of life as a heavy 
burthen, let us look around and observe all the wants, 
which implore our assistance, the laudable enterprises to 



FALSE SENSIBILITY. 49 

which nothing is wanting but men who can devote them- 
selves to their accomplishment ; let us observe the estimable 
and forsaken, whom we may console and make our friends ; 
and we shall find that we have not time nor strength for 
all who need us. We complain of the mistakes we make. 
There is a career, that is ever open, in which there can be 
no mistakes, — the career of doing good ; where if man can- 
not attain the end entirely, he has at least satisfaction in 
his efforts. The void, of which we complain, is not the 
void of existence, but the void of our own hearts. Instead 
of accusing destiny, let us accuse our blindness and guilty 
indifTerence. 

Sensibility, led astray by the imagination, sometimes 
transfers to outwards signs what it should give to the ob- 
jects themselves ; and hence arises a second kind of illu- 
sion. Signs are intended to quicken the affections, by 
awakening the idea of their objects, or the relations which 
exist between these objects and ourselves ; but in vivid and 
exalted imaginations the sign too often takes the place of 
the thing signified. Such is the origin of all superstitions, 
in which sensibility has always a share. We tremble at the 
sight of blood, and shudder at hearing groans and cries ; 
we wander around tombs, and think and call ourselves full 
of sensibility ; yet we do not penetrate into the secret of 
silent troubles, which are always deepest ; we do not recog- 
nise grief, except in the robes of mourning. We carefully 
collect every thing which calls back the remembrance of 
absent friends, but we neglect those who are present. We 
lavish our compassion upon physical sufferings, and hardly 
suspect those sufferings of the soul, which have a right to 
a more generous sympathy. 

But virtue goes directly on to its end ; it disperses vain 
shadows, attaches itself to persons, penetrates reality, ex- 
amines wants, and determines results. The sensibility 
which it nourishes, dwells in the soul ; it therefore knows 
all the secrets of the soul, is interested in it, and brings it 
5 



50 SELF-EDUCATION. 

assistance. To the virtuous, sentiment is not recreation, but 
the voice of humanity itself; and in their opinion the val- 
ue of affection lies in the manner in which it exercises it- 
self; and they are only satisfied by the proofs it can give of 
sincerity. 

A third kind of illusion arises from the influence which 
every thing that is surrounded with splendor, exerts over 
the imagination. We confound the liveliness of impression 
received from pictures, with the emotions that belong to 
those benevolent affections, which the sentiment of esteem 
so profitably cherishes. This factitious sensibility sympa- 
thizes with the joys and sorrows of those who occupy the 
first rank : it is excited by success, and moved in the cause 
of favor and power ; carrying its affections as a tribute to 
the idols of fame, and disdaining the humble and obscure. 
Flatterers are more honest than we suppose ; they have 
a real affection for power. Now nothing is more reasona- 
ble than to enjoy the honors with which a friend is invested, 
especially if he has deserved them ; we enjoy them, be- 
cause we cherish his person, and are happy at his prosperi- 
ty. But, if we sound the depths of our hearts, shall we 
not sometimes discover, that we love a friend more, when 
he is favored by fortune and glory ? It is the decoration, 
which enhances his value, and seems to make us discover 
in him new qualities. We require illustrious misfortunes, 
to move us in real life as well as in tragedy. But what 
talisman can those employ, whom the chances of life, and 
the cruel injustice of opinion have affected, and who have 
the most sacred rights over our hearts ? What will become 
of the domestic affections, whose exercise must be constant 
and unnoticed. At home, theatrical decorations disappear ; 
there are no more historical personages ; we come down to 
vulgar realities. 

If there is nothing brilliant or attractive, unless it be out 
of the common course, if exaltation of mind can only be 
produced by what is extraordinary, it is natural that 



FALSE SENSIBILITY. 51 

excitement should be slight in common situations, and en- 
tirely pass away by continued experience. But it is when 
there is no excitement, that virtue appears in all its power; 
gently lifting the veil of obscurity and modesty, and teach- 
ing us to love our fellow-beings for their own sakes, and to 
cherish them most when they have most need of us, when 
they are humble and our love can indemnify them for the 
inattention of others. 

There is another illusion more delicate and subtle in its 
origin ; which has a less disagreeable character than the 
preceding; but exerts a more fatal influence. This pro- 
ceeds from the efl'ect produced on the imagination by mod- 
els of the beautiful. The sentiment of the beautiful is of 
itself eminently pure and true ; it is moral, and one of the 
noblest branches of the sensibility of the soul. In natural 
affections there is a hidden harmony, which accords with 
what constitutes the beautiful in nature ; and these effects 
mutually assist each other, giving the love of the beautiful 
its true direction. But the presence of beauty kindles a 
fire in the mind, of which the imagination is the focus ; 
this excitement increases, when the image of the beautiful 
is reproduced in perceptible objects, borrowing the vivid- 
ness of their tints ; for it then seems like the sentiment 
itself; it even surpasses it in ardor; and the sentiment 
becomes cold in comparison. Soon this emotion becomes a 
want, and is necessary to direct and keep up the affections. 
It will then be^-equisite, that the objects offered to our most 
serious affections be elegant, that the scenes where our be- 
nevolence is implored be picturesque in their effect, and that 
the relations of life take a poetic aspect ; and even grief 
must be graceful to excite our sympathy. But can those 
with whom we live habitually, interest us by this magic 
charm ? Common intercourse gives rise to a thousand dis- 
cords ; proximity makes the harmony of the whole disap- 
pear ; familiarity disenchants ; the picture which is too near 
our eye has no effect. 



52 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Youth in its flower, and beauty adorned with all the gifts 
of nature and borne upon a triumphal car, attract towards 
them a train of these false affections, and we think we love 
what pleases us. Talent is also beauty as well as power; 
it therefore has its admirers and flatterers, who think they 
are the friends of its possessor. We mistake our impas- 
sioned tastes for affections. There are some parents who 
prefer the deformed child, but not all. Is not our attach- 
ment to a friend put to the proof when we discover him to 
be ridiculous? Poverty, clothed in rags. Suffering, in all its 
painful expressions, and the sight of human misery seen 
face to face, will dissipate that speculative sensibility, which 
seeks in scenes of misfortune a subject for the pencil of 
the artist. 

Experience teaches us, that the charms of music, when too 
frequently enjoyed, throw the mind into a vague and idle rev- 
erie, and the soul into a soft languor. The same may be 
said in respect to the habit of too frequent contemplation 
of all the productions of art. We are in like danger in 
respect to the emotions which the beauties of nature cause, 
if we suffer these emotions to be confounded with the mor- 
al indolence of the soul. A man, who composes or dreams 
in idyls, who wanders enamoured upon the borders of a 
solitary brook, may return to his family with a cold heart, 
or in a peevish humor. 

If we examine these different kinds of false sensibility, 
we shall find, that they have one peculiarity in common ; 
they all conceal a secret selfishness, under apparent disin- 
terestedness. To take to ourselves the charm of affection, 
without submitting to its conditions, some of which are 
hard, is like gathering the flower, without having contribu- 
ted to enrich the soil where the plant grows ; it is like 
taking pleasure without purchasing it by any sacrifice, or 
rendering it profitable to others. It is a kind of mental 
sensuality, not so gross as bodily, but yet selfish, and there- 
fore more liable to deceive us. But the wise man is careful 



FALSE SENSIBILITY. 53 

not to blame all kinds of exaltation. Far from undervalu- 
ing a legitimate enthusiasm, it is, on the contrary, from his 
very appreciation of it, that he more rigidly preserves it 
from profanation. He knows that this generous principle 
is the soul of all noble actions, and of all great thoughts ; 
but he also knows, that a just and enlightened inspiration 
can be the fruit only of reflection and experience ; that it 
is cultivated by truth, and is faithful to nature. Now false 
exaltation shares all the caprices of the faculty from which 
it emanates ; it is changeable because novelty is an illusion 
which often heightens, and fills the place of all other illu- 
sions of the imagination ; the cause of its fluctuations ex- 
ists in itself; it has its intoxication, its fits, and its delirium ; 
it also has its anomalies, its repose, and its faintings ; and 
when it abandons to himself the imprudent being who has 
given himself up to it, he is motionless and lifeless, seeing 
nothing around him but vacancy and the horror of dark- 
ness. 



CHAPTER VI. 



RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 



They alone truly know what they desire, who desire 
excellence ; and it is because a pure Love of Excellence is 
so rare, that we so often see, at the foundation of human 
will, so little simplicity of purpose. When men are ex- 
hausting themselves in acquiring that external good, which 
generally offers itself in a material and sensible form, they 
fancy that they are pursuing something determinate and 
positive; and with what a disdainful smile do men, thus 
preoccupied, look upon all ambition, which tends to the 
acquisition of riches purely moral ! Themselves alone, as 
5* 



54 SELE^-EDUCATION'. 

they think, are in possession of real riches ;■ alone exempt 
from illusions : they do not give themselves up, they say, to 
vague and idle speculations; vi^hat they mean to obtain is 
present, manifest to all eyes, definite ; they alone attach 
themselves to what is real. 

We do not mean to dispute, however, that fortune, power, 
or pleasure, may become distinct, clear, and positive, as 
objects of life ; but we think it may be doubted, whether 
the sworn votaries of these, have generally any clear and 
precise idea of what constitutes their value. A peculiar 
and intrinsic value does not exist in power and fortune. 
They are only useful as instruments ; they are however 
important as instruments, and universally applicable ; and 
are therefore worthy of much pains to obtain them, although 
their valuation is the more difficult to calculate. But they 
are often pursued, as if they were something in themselves. 
With the ambitious, as well as with the avaricious, the 
means become the end, and the object is acquired to be 
possessed, rather than to be employed. But whether power 
is sought as the means of riches, or for the purpose of 
ambition, pleasure is the last term, the definite end to 
which every thing tends. And what is this pleasure ? 
What is its nature? When will it commence? How long 
will it endure ? Will it be agitation or repose ? the pleas- 
ure of sense or of vanity? And, suppose we have a capaci- 
ty of receiving it, will it remain with us ? Do not the 
pleasures of sense and vanity often oppose each other. 
Do not men often degrade to enrich themselves, and impov- 
erish themselves to satisfy their pride? And if they can 
define the intermediate end, can they define the definite 
end, to which these realities, of which they are so confi- 
dent, are to serve as an introduction? What then are these 
realities of which they boast? They shine upon the eye ; 
they can, perhaps, be weighed against each other ; but we 
cannot estimate their value, for it is a relative one. Men 
speak of interest as the grand motive of action, as if noth- 



RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 5^ 

ing was so easily determined as interest ; but considering 
the various elements, of which it is composed, what calcu- 
lation is so difficult ? Even were moral principle absent 
it is doubtful whether interest could become the chief 
motive. It is often sacrificed to opinion ; often to habit ; 
sometimes to cowardice ; sometimes to pride ; and even to 
a carelessness which is not less frequent than extravao-ant. 
Besides, the generality of men preserve some moral in- 
tentions. There is a necessity of being just ; and the in- 
tention to be just is preserved and cultivated by education 
and social intercourse, and often procures pleasures that are 
obtained at little cost ; and experience constantly increases 
the power of these pleasures as motives of action. Most 
men, however, attempt to associate their moral intentions 
with personal ambition, and would make them go on 
together, independent of one another, these two classes of 
motives sharing their daily conduct. Thus men endeavour 
to reap the fruits of two principles of action at once ; to 
obtain the honors of virtue while satisfying their passions ; 
gaining security from the former, in which to enjoy the 
latter without restraint. For they are ashamed to confess 
to themselves their weakness ; they are not vile nor corrupt, 
and desire to be honest, upright, and estimable in their own 
eyes. But why not aspire to something more? Do they 
fear the fatigue which the labor of improving would cause ; 
and retreat from the contemplation of sacrifices? There 
are men who think that every thing can be reconciled, who 
expect to obtain repose of conscience while gratifying 
themselves, and who even dare to consider this compromise 
as a kind of wisdom. Now this is the very thing which 
causes confusion, and renders motives obscure and doubtful ; 
for, by having two springs of action at once, we really have 
no definite motive ; when secretly yielding to one, we per- 
suade ourselves that we remain faithful to the other; when 
yielding to personal feeling, we think we are generous, or 
at least dignified, endeavouring to seduce conscience, or to 



56 SELF-EDUCATION, 

disguise what we desire, that we may obtain it without re- 
morse. Hence arises, in the common circumstances of life, 
agitation and inquietude ; and, when it is necessary to make 
great resolutions, embarrassment : the discord resulting from 
so many different l^desires, not permitting us to collect our 
ideas and rally our strength. Hence proceeds also a want 
of all generous self-abandonment ; indecision and embar- 
rassment in social intercourse ; want of clearness in thought ; 
and a mode of expression, which is imperfect, insincere, 
and does not penetrate the soul. The conversation and 
actions of him, v/ho does not clearly define what he means 
and thinks, are full of ambiguity. He continually dissem- 
bles, and even deceives, without expressly intending it, and 
without expecting any advantage from it; but because he 
deceives himself first, and perhaps seeks in the illusions, 
which he makes others believe, a means of confirming what 
he would like to think real. He is wanting in sincerity in 
his conversation, because, in his practice, there is no recti- 
tude of intention. 

This especially happens to those who act with reference 
to opinion ; for they do not really intend the thing they do, 
but mean to do that which complies with common prejudices, 
whatever it may be in itself; yet they wish to appear to act 
from their own reflective and independent motive ; and thus 
falsehood is generated. The vain necessarily belie themselves. 
They deceive themselves and others in regard to their own 
actions ; for they cannot recognise their ruling principle 
without contradicting themselves ; they would blush to ac- 
knowledge it, and be humbled to have it made known. 

There are some wicked men, who are more open and frank 
in their intentions than those who are half virtuous. To be 
effeminate and timid in virtue, compromises the character, 
and makes it insincere. Some people have some rectitude 
of will in single instances, but have no plan, no general 
design, which takes in the whole life. Their existence 
comprises praiseworthy actions, labor, and zeal, — some 



RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 57 

pleasures, and repose ; but it has no connexion, and answers 
to no destiny ; for they have no vocation. Nothing they do is 
blamable ; but neither is any thing premeditated. In given 
cases they have very good sentiments, but they reflect little 
upon the possibility of acting them out in their lives. In 
every successive situation they go no further than that sit- 
uation. We must confess, that this is the secret history of 
most of us : we are born, we grow up, we go, and come, 
and die, without doing much good or much evil ; but withs- 
out being able at our last hour to explain why we were 
placed here below ; our life passes away like a drama, 
whose scenes are unconnected and tend to no catastrophe. 
Now from such habits something vague and ambiguous 
comes upon the character of the will ; especially felt in its 
most important determinations. It is easy to have simplicif 
ty of intention in little things ; but it is in great things that 
it is especially necessary ; for when the intention is not de- 
fined, difficulty and obstacles are fatal. 

It is natural and just to desire that virtue should be coRr 
stantly rewarded upon earth. Yet if it were so, perhaps true 
virtue would be still rarer than it is. There would be a new 
kind of ambition, which would consist in practising exceir 
lence externally, as a means of success, and it would find 
ardent proselytes. Most men, without exactly making a 
profound and systematic calculation,^ would nevertheless 
suffer their motives to be influenced ; and this could not 
happen without affecting the principle of the most praise- 
worthy resolutions. Good actions themselves would be 
founded upon mixed and complex intentions ; and without 
being hypocrites entirely, we should still be no longer sin- 
cere with ourselves. This is nearly what now happens in 
the world, in consequence of the consideration which can- 
not be refused to merit ; and as this consideration and es- 
teem become more profitable, men will aspire still more to 
obtain them. In the train of the crafty, who seek to ensnare 
public esteem with this design, follows a crowds second-rat^ 



58 SELF-EDUCATION. 

as to morality, who, without wishing to usurp favor, put 
themselves in such a situation, that favor may not be refused 
them ; and who, while acting well, could not say whether 
they were doing so for their own esteem, or for the opinion 
of others ; from the desire of satisfying duty, or from the 
fear of being undervalued. They seek perhaps to persuade 
themselves, that the first of these two motives prevails, and 
their intentions therefore become still more corrupted. It 
is better to avow openly, that we do right for the sake of 
succeeding in the world. For even when acting rightly, 
we lose the merit and pleasure of it, from not preserving 
right dispositions of the heart. This is why we often dis- 
cover in ourselves secret inclinations, of whose existence 
we were hardly aware, and which mingle with our resolu- 
tions and corrupt their principle. To their hiding-places 
within us, the Love of Excellence has not penetrated, and 
carried its vivifying light. 

Then let the Love of Excellence resume the rank which 
naturally belongs to it ; let it reign unlimitedly ; let it take 
undivided possession of the soul : let it become our deep, 
sincere, and exclusive passion ; then clouds will be dispers- 
ed, doubts will be cleared away, discords will cease, every 
thing will be simplified ; and man, understanding himself, 
will know how to act. It is the Love of Excellence which 
assigns to every thing its true and fixed value ; it is this 
which establishes subordination and harmony among mo- 
tives ; this alone gives a plan and general design to life ; 
it connects together all events, and all circumstances, even 
the least actions, enabling man to go on to the end with 
constancy, and to approach it, with the ease and freedom 
of one who walks in broad day-light through a known coun- 
try. Advancing in a wide and straight path, he will meet 
at every step those divisions of by-ways, which cause hesi-- 
tation about the direction to be pursued ; but as he is guided 
by a law which has foreseen every thing ; he has only the 
^are of employing the means of execution. There is 



RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 59 

nothing more constantly animated than a life which flows on 
under such an influence ; for an incessantly renewing in- 
terest gives value to every thing; nothing is lost; man goes 
on step by step, and always looks onward ; the motion is 
therefore ascending, and carries him every day into a freer 
atmosphere ; and satisfaction and security increase as he 
advances. For our souls find content only in what puts us 
on good terms with ourselves ; we repose on certainty alone ; 
there is no peace for him, who doubts of and about himself. 
As no after-thought comes to agitate and disturb resolution, 
to paralyse energy and belie evident desires, the whole 
heart is borne along, unconditionally and unreservedly, 
towards the noble object to which it has consecrated itself 
with absolute devotedness. Every thing is consistent in 
motives, decided in ideas, frank in expression, and conse- 
quently easy, rapid, and opportune in execution. 

What an abundance of life seems to circulate and diff'use 
itself in the conduct of those who have accomplished the 
consecration of themselves to excellence ! How full are 
their days ! How finished are their actions ! How well 
designed is the form, how clearly marked out is the destina- 
tion, of all their productions ! How faithful is their character 
to itself, consistent in the most diverse circumstances ! What 
ease they have in difficult things ! What elasticity of soul 
in the presence of sacrifices ! The consideration which 
they did not desire, or, at least, only aspired to deserve, nat- 
urally comes to meet them ; for it is necessarily attached 
to consistent, complete, and decided characters. Besides, 
n the language of virtue, there are certain accents of truth, 
certain distinctive tones, which naturally drop from the up- 
right, who alone can find them, whether they seek them or 
not, and precisely because they have used no art in their 
language. 

Veracity is a part of justice ; for as truth is the only true 
guide of activity, we ought to give it to our fellow-creatures. 
We owe it to them for another reason ; it is a blessing, 



60 SELF-EDUCATION. 

which belongs to all in common, and in which each one is 
particularly called to make others participate, because, by 
communication, so far from weakening the part which has 
fallen to his own lot, he strengthens it in a thousand ways. 
But such a duty can only be understood by a man, who has 
begun to be sincere with himself; the well-intentioned 
will, naturally without effort or reflection, be true in social 
intercourse. For the love of truth and the Love Excellence 
are the same love under different forms, and in different 
applications. Inspired therefore by Love of Excellence, 
we render public worship to truth, because we render in- 
ward homage to it ; we respect it in the relations of society, 
not only bcause of the benefits which flow from it, and the 
rights which claim it, but because we venerate it in itself. 
It is easy to find subtle sophisms to persuade ourselves, that 
such and such truths are not useful to men ; but there is 
not one, by the help of which we can dispute, that truth is, 
in itself, a sacred thing. 

Frankness when observed as a duty, is always constrain- 
ed and uneasy, and therefore imperfect ; but the love of 
goodness and truth naturally disposes one to openness, be- 
cause it leaves no interest in disguising any thing. 

Good intentions are a kind of probity towards one's self; 
imparting to our relations with others that sustained integ- 
rity, which, inspiring perfect security, commands from the 
most frivolous a respectful confidence. 

Men of complicated and double intentions believe them- 
selves sincere, when they make promises; and think 
they are not wanting in faith, though they forget what they 
have promised. Do they really know what engagement 
they intended to form ? Men, whom the Love of Excel- 
lence animates, have no need of pledging themselves ; their 
character is a pledge, their intention is as valuable as a 
promise, and they will be faithful to it, because they are 
upright, enlightened, and entire. Let the crafty boast of' 
their success in a career, the plan of which they have con- 



RECTITUDE OF INTENTION. 61 

certed with finished art, and in which they have sported the 
most learned observations upon the means of conquering opin- 
ion and surprising confidence. It may be, that they attain 
fortune and honors, and leave far behind them the modest 
and the peaceable, who confine themselves to the exact ful- 
filment of their duties. Yet, when we have long and atten- 
tively observed the world, we discover, that, if not the most 
brilliant, at least the most certain, stable, easy, and the only 
desirable success, attends men whose intentions are pure, 
upright, and constant. By degrees these men are discover- 
ed and made known, and make immutable and advanta- 
geous connexions with society ; for they are guarded by a 
peaceful but deep-founded esteem, which increases and is 
confirmed every day. Naturally occupying their place, it 
becomes so much their own, that people hardly dream of 
taking it from them. But if the cunning man fails, (and 
how many times he will fail !) how will he be consoled and 
indemnified ? The man of good intentions may fail without 
feeling regret, for his intentions still remain to him ; but 
reverse destroys every thing for the crafty, and at the same 
time brings him to confusion and shame. The honest man 
seeks his duty, and he has fulfilled it ; what can he lose ? 
He acquires, perhaps, one merit more. 



CHAPTER VII. 

HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 

The more energetic a power is, the more fatal its devia- 
tions may be, when it is turned from its true end. The 
aberrations of a virtuous zeal have done as much injury to 
society, as the conspiracies of the malevolent. Rectitude 
of intention prevents many errors, and perhaps the greater 
6 



62 SELF-EDUCATION. 

number ; yet it cannot prevent them all, for it cannot en- 
tirely make up for the deficiency of knowledge, and it has 
no influence over prejudices previously formed, and faith- 
fully preserved : in this case, indeed, it may render errors 
more tenacious, and practically more dangerous, precisely 
because the testimony it renders to itself, gives us more se- 
curity, and makes us more obstinate. 

There are seven principal errors, which seem to concur 
in leading astray, in different directions, the most sincere 
Love of Excellence. 

1, Men may form exaggerated ideas with regard to vir- 
tue, as when they too much forget the conditions in which 
human nature is placed. Not that the love of virtue in 
itself can be excessive; for it is founded upon truth itself; 
and there can be no excess in the conviction which evi- 
dence gives. Excellence, and the necessity of aiming for 
it, cannot be exaggerated, but the possibility of entirely and 
rapidly attaining it may. The hopes also, which spring from 
the ardor of a zeal to which every thing seems easy, may 
be excessive ; and things praiseworthy in themselves, but 
not obligatory, may be transformed into absolute and impe- 
rious duties. These two exaggerations are quite analogous ; 
for it is not doubtful, that perfection would be a duty, if it 
were possible ; and that men are culpable in neglecting 
what is simply prudent, when it can be easily accomplished. 

From this first error flow two fatal consequences ; one of 
which directly concerns him who commits it, and the other 
applies to the relations he bears to his fellow-men. The 
pure, doubtless, may be ensnared, by this error ; but how 
desolate it makes them ! how many sufferings it prepares 
for them ! It deprives them of the just satisfaction, which, 
as a recompense of their eflibrts, was to support them in new 
exertions. It saddens and makes them unjust towards 
themselves ; it converts the most innocent circumstances 
into a cause of inquietude and fear, and poisons their sweet- 
est meditations. Souls that are affected by this moral dis- 



HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 63 

ease, refine excessively upon the motives of their actions, 
and end by creating i nTag iii di y faults, through the fear of 
committing' td*^ ones. They are discouraged and even 
withered by self-reproach, and by their want of power to re- 
alize all they impose upon themselves. Some suffer them- 
selves to be devoured by such remorse for mere negligences, 
as should be reserved for crime, and from which crime often 
succeeds in freeing itself. 

It is very common to see this exaggeration affecting men's 
judgment of others ; for it costs nothing to subject others 
to severe sentences. Perhaps, without knowing it, they se- 
cretly yield to an inclination to undervalue merit and to 
be severe on characters the most eminent in virtue, in or- 
der to be relieved from the importunity of their example, or 
to be revenged for the tacit censure pronounced on them- 
selves. They imitate in morals, those critics of literature 
and the arts, who are inexorable towards masterpieces, in 
comparing them with the ideal, and who raise the slightest 
rules into inviolable laws. This severity of judgment inev- 
itably cools benevolence, inclines men to forsake their fel- 
iow-creatures, and leads, in private relations, to a want of 
indulgence. They think they have only a holy indignation 
against evil, while they expose themselves to the access of 
envy and other bitter dispositions. At least, they look up- 
on all the human race with a gloomy and troubled eye; 
dishonoring and debasing it in their thoughts ; becoming 
disgusted with social intercourse; and justifying a misan- 
thropic disposition, by the dark views they take of general 
corruption, and of the disorders and the excesses they sup- 
pose prevalent in society. It is sometimes those who are 
least true to virtue in their own practice, who hold this 
disdainful language, deploring the contagion of vice, as if 
there were no virtue upon earth. We must confess, that 
moralists, also, have often exaggerated the coloring of the 
picture ; they have only sought pretexts for condemnation, 
and they have not studied the redeeming traits of men, 



64 SELF-EDUCATION. 

and often they speak of the world without knowing it. If 
they lived in its bosom, and observed it with calmness and 
impartiality, they would be more just; they would acknowl- 
edge that men are generally less wicked and perverse than 
they appear ; that goodness of heart predominates ; that it 
commonly prevails, when nothing comes to oppose its influ- 
ence, and it can take its natural course ; that this world, 
which is so much traduced, contains eminent virtues, al- 
though unremarked ; for men are generally silent about good, 
but never about evil. It would especially be seen, that lev- 
ity, impatience, negligence, and want of reflection, cause a 
great number of those faults, whose effects are so fatal ; and 
we must judge, in a moral point of view, not from effects, 
but intentions. It is true we should ever keep our eyes on 
the sublime summits of perfection, nor cease to aspire after 
it with all our desires, especially if we would make daily 
progress. But let us take care not to lose sight of all the 
obstacles which separate us from that remote end, and ever 
keep in mind the narrow bounds of our faculties. Let us 
especially apply these considerations to our fellow-creatures, 
and gather up, with respect and joy, the scattered, imper- 
fect, yet precious fruits, which virtue has produced upon 
earth. Let us not diminish the homage due to great men, 
by cruelly putting their deficiencies in strong relief. To 
do them homage, will sustain ourselves ; and he who con- 
siders what it must have cost them to give immortal exam- 
ples, will find sufficient to admire, notwithstanding a few 
blemishes. 

How many times the excessive severity of a false zeal has 
discouraged and repulsed the timid from the ways of excel- 
lence, when a little indulgence would have strengthened 
them by keeping up their hopes of success. How many 
times the slothful have made this severity • the pretext for 
refusing every attempt at improvement ! How many times 
has its morose and peevish expressions led men to misun- 
derstand virtue, by taking from it its attractions ! 



HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 65 

2. Men may deceive themselves about the rank and sub- 
ordination of the virtues, as well as about their relative im- 
portance. By granting an arbitrary preeminence, or a too 
exclusive importance, to some moral rules, we enfeeble or 
perhaps destroy those, which should concur with, modify, 
restrain, and sometimes even govern others. One man, 
exalting himself for public duties, will think he may neglect 
private virtues ; another, preoccupied with domestic affec- 
tions, will dispense with what he owes to sbciety. One 
will imagine he is an honest man, because he is faithful to 
all the engagements of probity, although he fails in those 
which govern the more delicate affections ; another, jealous 
of maintaining the dignity of his character, will be wanting 
in indulgence towards his fellow-men. One, in his blind 
zeal for a good cause, may pervert the testimony of truth 
itself; another, absorbed with the exercises of worship, will 
forget the claims of his fellow-creatures. It may happen 
that works of pure supererogation, though praiseworthy, 
will prevail over rigorous obligations ; for the first act more 
upon the imagination, and have a more indefinite form. 
Thus, in doing a generous action, men sometimes forget 
what justice requires. Duties, in the exercise of which 
worldly honor is interested, are apt to predominate over 
those which are so unfortunate as to be obscure. How 
many people are capable of heroic sacrifices, who neglect 
purity of character ! They think themselves exempt from 
the observance of little things, as if it were a vulgar subjec- 
tion. Each of us has his favorite virtue, and it is the 
seduction of this virtue, that he must fear, as his peculiar 
clanger. What is this privileged virtue 1 Is it not that 
which harmonizes with our temperament and with the nat- 
ural impulses of our character ; or that, the practice of 
which is at once easiest and most agreeable ? We are 
often deluded by thinking ourselves influenced by the purest 
views, when in reality we only yield to our habitual incli- 
nations. One man praises goodness of heart, because he is 
6* 



66 SELF-«DUCATION. 

weak ; another celebrates courage, because he is impetuous. 
Our favorite virtue may perhaps be that, which has most 
relation with the habits of our profession ; it may be that in 
which we perceive most personal advantage. How we 
admire in others those virtues, by which we profit ! Thus 
those who have power, cannot sufficiently exalt submission, 
as the avaricious do not cease to extol economy to their ser- 
vants. 

In certain virtues, there are also required, in particular 
circumstances, extraordinary efforts; and thus the will 
must concentrate all its energy upon a single point. If such 
an effort should be prolonged or repeated too frequently, 
the will would at last find itself wanting in other respects. 
There are some moral austerities, which, thus carried to 
excess, become a sort of mutilation ; and as we shut our 
eyes so as to understand better, the soul is deprived of a 
portion of its faculties, that it may unfold the rest more 
entirely. Thus there is an apparent heroism, which can only 
be purchased by this mutilation ; when those, who are heroes 
in the world, appear small to those with whom they are 
familiar, the latter are not alv»?ays deceived. Let us not 
pretend to extraordinary things, nor aim at being heroes 
every day, and on every occasion. Let us not engage our- 
selves gratuitously in trials, which demand such high reso- 
lutions ! It is enough when they come of themselves. Let' 
us place our resolutions upon a broad basis ! Let us act 
in such a manner that all our faculties may harmoniously 
concur in the great work. 

3. But the most fatal of all errors, is to suppose that the 
end consecrates the means. Blindly preoccupied with an 
end which is praiseworthy in itself, men often perceive 
nothing else, and every thing becomes admissible for its 
attainment. This mistake takes a thousand forms, accord- 
ing to the nature of the predominating idea, which thus 
takes captive all the moral faculties ; but whatever form it 
adopts, its consequences are the same; the idol may be 



HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 67 

different, but the sacrifice is similar ; nature, the interests 
and rights of humanity, will be given up to it without pity. 
When this atrocious morality is once instituted, all the 
passions flock in crowds to take refuge under its unexpect- 
ed protection ; ambition, envy, and hatred, are indulged 
under this safeguard, and, usurping the honors which be- 
long to zeal for excellence, they become a thousand times 
more fatal in consequence of this sacrilege. Left to them- 
selves, and obliged to appear in their own form, they would 
at least have been opposed and condemned ; internal repro- 
bation and a just shame would have moderated their in- 
fluence, or prepared their remedy. But the kind of excess 
which is subservient to our cause is justified and gloried in ; 
men are confirmed in it by the authority of the sacred duty 
to which they pretend to devote themselves unreservedly ; 
and thus do evil conscientiously. They may then be cruel, 
while uttering virtuous words, and even while thinking they 
have the purest intentions, and may glory in their inflexi- 
bility. Such a fanaticism is much more inexorable than 
avarice, ambition, or fury; the latter can leave some access 
open to pity, and might yield to a more powerful interest ; 
in a word, the victim might obtain favor. But what favor 
can be expected from him, who regards it a duty to sacri- 
fice compassion itself, and to harden his heart; — from him 
who knows nothing superior, and nothing equal, to the con- 
siderations he obeys, and who sees in them an imperious 
and absolute law ? This kind of fanaticism will not always 
be ardent and impetuous, as we should be tempted to be- 
lieve ; it will often wear an appearance of calmness and 
equanimity ; a desperate appearance, because it denotes its 
immutability. It is enough if the exclusive idea become 
fixed and habitual. He who is given up to such an error, 
remains sincere and perhaps gentle in the midst of violence. 
He smiles almost while he strikes. What an error, great 
God ! is that, which, rendering virtue an accomplice of 
crime, makes it odious upon earth ! 



68 SELF-EDUCATION. 

4. Sometimes, on the contrary, men may take the means 
for the end : this mistake is much more common. Concen- 
trating all their respect upon the instrument, they forget its 
destination, and continue to cling to it with the same force, 
when it no longer serves the same purpose. They suppose 
it has an absolute value, when it has only a relative merit. 
There are some very useful practices in certain places, at 
certain times, in certain circumstances, which lose their 
utility and may even be disadvantageous in a different state 
of things. Some practices are useful to certain persons, 
and indifferent and hurtful to others ; like the remedies and 
dietetic prescriptions which the art of medicine recom- 
mends. This error resembles the very common prejudice, 
which aims at making a universal panacea of certain prep- 
arations, and a regimen for all temperaments and all ages. 
This is the error of men of low and limited minds, who, 
not penetrating into the meaning of the moral law, can 
perceive only the preparatory means of execution. 

5. Men may also take the sign for the thing signified, and 
give the former all the importance which they ought to grant 
to the latter. Morality has not only direct expressions, but 
also infinitely various symbols, which borrow its dignity and 
recall its sacred image. Then happens what so often hap- 
pens in religion ; v/orship insensibly degenerates into idola- 
try. The mistake is easy and often innocent. But when 
the sign is separated from the thing, the thing is forgotten, 
and the sign alone remains, with the idea of duty still ad- 
hering to it. Through association, the notion of excellence 
is arbitrarily transferred to things which are only connect- 
ed with it accidentally ; and artificial duties are created, 
to which men attach absolute importance, and impose upon 
others. It is not unexampled to put these factitious duties 
in the first rank, as if they received a peculiar recommen- 
dation from our instituting them ourselves. Sometimes 
these factitious duties are derived from a tacit and recipro- 
cal convention of society, presiding over manners, and com- 



HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 69 

posing as many codes as there can be states of society. 
This morality of pure human creation is in extreme danger 
of involving all the errors, which man falls into in his works. 
It may sanction and prescribe things, which are cul- 
pable in themselves. And even when it exalts into virtue 
things simply useless, it is productive of serious disadvan- 
tage ; for this factitious morality is, in practice, often met 
with in combination with real ; and as it cannot harmonize 
with it, there will be a sad struggle between them, in which 
real morality will not always triumph. Moreover, as we are 
only gifted with a measure of strength, by which to obtain 
excellence, and as the measure is very small, we should not 
run the risk of half exhausting it to satisfy arbitrary laws ; 
like those imprudent men, who, enjoying a moderate for- 
tune, spend their all in trifles, and find themselves after- 
wards deprived of necessaries. Conscience does not give 
warning of this error, for it rests in having accomplished 
the task imposed of external exercises, and thus the virtues 
are left uncultivated, and decorum takes the place of duties. 
6. Men are easily induced also to convert into an abso- 
lute and universal rule, the suggestion which was only in- 
tended to apply to certain cases, and which was to be fol- 
lowed only under certain essential conditions, and within 
certain determinate limits. This arises from the natural 
propensity, which inclines the human mind to generalize 
unreservedly, and assimulate without precaution ; and this 
danger is increased if the rule is presented in an abstract 
and concise form, which singularly strengthens this error 
of the reason. We might make a very extraordinary col- 
lection of abstract maxims, which, though praiseworthy in 
themselves, when conceived under certain restrictions, 
have nevertheless served to ravage the world, because 
thrown into society, and given up to the passions : there is 
no crime, which has not found in some one of them a pre- 
text, or a means of apology. Those simple formulas, which, 
speculatively considered, are not dangerous, and which 



70 SELF-EDUCATION. 

beam with all the brightness that the moral idea they ex- 
press possesses, have a magic power to excite and transmit 
enthusiasm with astonishing rapidity. Like lightning, 
which furrows the cloud, they dazzle us; and, thinking we 
comprehend beforehand every application, we make mis- 
takes. Many people have certain axioms of this kind, 
which they have composed for themselves ; it might be said, 
that they employ them as a kind of moral talisman, which 
is to be sufficient for them in every thing, and to the power 
of which, every thing must yield, even evidence itself. 

7. When we are animated by the Love of Excellence, 
we are not satisfied to pursue it ourselves ; we wish excel- 
lence to be extended in its influence, and its worship ac- 
knowledged. We feel an ardent and noble desire, that 
other men should share a treasure of infinite value ; for we 
cherish excellence as the common inheritance of the human 
race. But in this generosity, we may make mistakes ; in 
our impatience we may mistake the extent of our rights ; 
instead of limiting ourselves to the use of means, which are 
proper to the cause of excellence, that is, to knowledge 
which enlightens, and sentiment which persuades, we may 
be led to employ those which also serve the cause of the 
passions ; we may become importunate, perhaps oppressive, 
perhaps persecuting ; we may torment others, as if we had 
some other office than that of exhibiting virtue to make it 
loved, or were invested with authority to obtain submission 
to its decrees. When controversies are entered into, in 
regard to the application of moral truths, this kind of error 
may become still more fatal ; for we may spend upon con-~ 
troversial points all the earnestness which should belong 
to first principles ; and may forget, that they can be sepa- 
rated from one another. Thus a passage is opened for the 
subtle passions of vanity and pride, which mingle with and 
corrupt zeal itself. Hence will spring the animosity of 
quarrels, prejudice, and injustice ; and a wall of separation 
will be raised between men, who were niade to esteem one 



HOW THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE MAY ERR. 71 

another, while the enemies of virtue rejoice at the desperate 
contest.* 

The Love of Excellence may also err in application, in 
the same manner as every doctrine, how wise and certain 
soever it may be, in itself, is subject to error, when it comes 
into practice ; that is, because we mistake the particular 
points, which serve as a basis for the application. This is 
a kind of error, which may occur in every state of circum- 
stances, and against which there is no general precaution 
to be used, unless it be to take care to observe narrowly in 
the first place, and afterwards to examine scrupulously what 
we think we have observed ; and to distrust ourselves. 

Does Love of Excellence deceive us in all this? No. It 
is we who deceive ourselves, by perverting, confounding, 
or transposing the notions and rules which flow from it. 
The feeling is still pure and lawful, although the judgment 
may err, and the feeling, turned in a wrong direction, may 
be directed against the end that it has proposed to itself. 
But it might be said, that when the Love of Excellence errs, 
it is because it is as yet imperfect ; for it errs for want of 
knowing its end clearly, and for want of completely enter- 
ing into the spirit of the holy inspirations which should 
guide it. When the Love of Excellence is profound, true, 
entire, and perfectly sincere, it becomes a light, or at least 
it favors and invokes light. In morality we are rarely inno- 
cent of our errors. 

^ Sometimes men confound, or affect to confound, tolerance with indif- 
ference in matters of opinion or belief But these notions are essential- 
ly distinct. Indifference consists in looking upon opinions as equally 
doubtful, at least as equally good or innocent in themselves. Tolerance 
consists in abstaining from condemning, as guilty of evil intention, those 
who profess opinions, which we consider false or pernicious. Therefore 
we can have the most ardent zeal for truth, and the most entire toler- 
ance for persons. We can detest error, and cherish him who deceives 
himself : in which case we shall have more means of undeceiving him. 



SECTION 11. 

FRUITS OF SELF-GOVERNMENT. 



CHAPTER I. 

POWER OVER INCLINATION. 

There is a kind of self-government, which the world 
praises because it is accommodated by it. Thus in social 
intercourse, we acquire the habit of regulating our man- 
ners ; avoiding to show in our external actions the vivacity 
of our first emotions, or to give ourselves up to effeminate 
and low habits. But by thus regulating our bearing and 
language, we only govern our organs, and the secret pas- 
sions often acquire more energy from being shut up in the 
depth of the heart. This self-government, also, may be the 
strength of vanity and falsehood, and not the energy of vir- 
tue. The deceitful excel in the art of repressing external 
expressions of passion, that they may in reality indulge 
them more freely. 

But the true power of self-government is that which man 
exercises over his own will. It is the principle of the 
strong-minded ; and although it is only the instrument of 
virtue, it is eminently moral. For man is amoral being inas- 
much as he is a cause, morality lying in his mode of action 
as a cause. 

The scientific arts, by which the external activity of man 
is exercised, are so many levers of the power which governs 
and rules material nature, and subjects it to our wants and 
desires. The art, according to which we exercise internal 
activity, is the lever of the power which governs and rules 
our inclinations, and subjects them to the interests of our 
happiness, that is, to the laws of excellence. This is the 
greatest of all arts : it is wisdom. 



POWER OVER INCLINATION. 



73 



In order to conceive the power by which man governs his 
inclinations, we will in the first place consider his sensa- 
tions and simplest imaginings, for the laws of these modifi- 
cations of his mind are most easily understood. 

1. It is not in our power to create any sensation of which 
our organs are not susceptible ; but there are a great num- 
ber of sensations, from which we cannot escape, and a great 
many which we can excite or suppress at pleasure ; as by 
opening or shutting our eyes. We cannot conceive of a 
simple sensation that we have not felt, or which we have 
forgotten ; while on the other hand, sometimes we are una- 
ble to banish an image which besets us, or to break up an 
association of ideas, which is strongly cemented by habit. 
Yet it generally depends upon ourselves, whether the image 
grow fainter and disappear ; i. e. whether we avoid occa- 
sions of recalling it, or seek to reproduce the signs which 
may renew it. It is also in our power to group images in 
a thousand new and different ways ; for our power over 
images is much greater than that over sensations, because 
the instruments which the mind uses to create the first, are 
much more numerous, and the combinations they can form 
are infinite. 

2. When sensations or images are present with us, and 
cannot be avoided, their relative and even absolute inten- 
sity is increased or enfeebled by our desire to observe them 
or not. The impressions they make are therefore modified. 
This influence is more extensively exercised over those 
images which are more particularly the consequence of our 
own activity ; and this explains how the direct and multi- 
plied efforts we make to struggle against certain inclina- 
tions, sometimes contribute to render their action upon us 
more powerful and importunate, rendering our triumph 
more difficult : it is because we redouble our attention to 
the image, while wishing to banish it. 

3. Finally, although sensations and images may be pres- 
ent with us, and their intensity be very great, independently 

7 



74 SELF-EDUCATION. 

of the circumstance of our attention or inattention, we 
can prevent them from invading that part of our nature, 
where the springs of Will are in play. This part of our 
nature is the region of cool deliberation. It is where our 
intellectual and moral self dwells; it is where we retire, 
when we take the cup which contains a bitter potion, or 
when we leave our limbs in the hands of the surgeon. 

Hence we perceive, that the soul unfolds three powers 
over purely sensual inclinations : a physical power of put- 
ting ourselves in the way of them or not ; a mental power 
of attending or not attending to them ; and a moral power 
of assent or of absolute rejection. For the attraction which 
draws us towards agreeable sensations, and the repugnance 
which repels those that are painful, are so inseparable from 
received impressions, that we cannot free ourselves from 
either. The soul also unfolds analogous powers over the 
affections, a still more energetic part of our nature. 

Self-government, then, consists of three principal branch- 
es ; the art of foresight and economy in regard to the aver- 
sions which excite or repel our inclinations ; a positive in- 
fluence over the intensity of those inclinations ; and finally 
an open struggle to master them. 

The first might be compared to the administrative de- 
partment in political government ; the second, to the offices 
which the magistrate exercises ; and the third, to the em- 
ployment of public force by a well constituted community. 

1. The affections are strengthened either by the actual 
presence of objects, or by the remembrances which preserve 
their images, or by the manner in which these objects are 
considered : for it is often sufficient to change the view we 
take of objects, in order to change entirely the sentiments 
they call forth : the same man, for example, is offered under 
two different aspects to his friends and enemies, and it 
often happens that these aspects are equally just, although 
each is incomplete. This observation leads to prudence 
and precaution; by the help of which we may go back to 



POWER OVER INCLINATION. 70 

the origin of the impressions we receive, and excite, pre- 
serve, or slacken the movements of an affection : and as 
different affections, according to their relations to each oth- 
er, or according to their different tendencies, may recipro- 
cally aid, or may balance one another, a prudent wisdom 
uses the means employed to govern each of them, to react 
indirectly upon the others. Wisdom will also prevent ex- 
aggeration, by taking care that objects do not prepossess 
us in too exclusive a manner ; and give new aliment to the 
affections, when they are inclined to fail, by concentrating 
attention, and preventing or dissipating the false prejudi- 
ces which arise from the arbitrary transformations, by which 
the imagination perverts objects. It restores things to their 
simple reality, and rectifies the imperfect judgments which 
have been passed upon them, by exhibiting them in every 
point of view. It especially strives to stop, in their begin- 
ning, all the false associations of ideas, which might coun- 
tenance bad passions, and to strengthen those associations 
which are reasonable, and conducive to praiseworthy senti- 
ments. This is rather a principle of conduct, or an exer- 
cise of foresight, than the practice of virtue ; but if it be 
not virtue itself, it is a kind of common wisdom, employed 
in the service of virtue, and like a tutelary guardian, is 
awake to all circumstances, whether expected or not, meas- 
uring their influence, seeking the means to modify it, and 
thus avoiding the dangers of which the moral sentiment 
gives the signal ; or, at least, preparing the aid which the 
moral sentiment recommends. 

2. The affections suppose a still more active cooperation 
of the soul than simple individual sensation ; hence arises a 
very highly important phenomenon, although it is not always 
clearly observed ; it is this : that attention to the object 
gives new impetuosity to an affection, while, by refusing our 
consent, we gradually lessen its energy. We very plainly 
observe this in anger, for instance. We cannot help feeling 
anger to a certain degree ; but when at this point, we can 



76 SELF-EDUCATION. 

remain simple spectators of our own agitation, as if it were 
another's, without cooperating in it at all by our consent; 
and then we shall see ourselves grow calm. At other times, 
on the contrary, a passion does not result from exaggerated 
strength, but from weakness and moral prostration. Then 
by calling back the energy of the soul, and applying it to 
sentiments capable of balancing the received impression, 
we succeed in preventing its influence. This is what we 
observe in ourselves, when in the presence of danger.* 
Thus the instinctive affections, although in their origin in- 
dependent of the will, through its concurrence obtain gradu- 
ally a new degree of vehemence, or, if not seconded, grow 
cool. We may even succeed in creating a species of artifi- 
cial affections ; but they possess little force or duration, if 
they be not engrafted upon the first. By artificial affections 
we do not mean the reflective affections, which belong to 
moral sentiments. Artificial affections have no root in our 
nature, and are only the production of an excited and heat- 
ed imagination. Reflective affections, on the contrary, 
have their source in the inmost soul ; we do not create 
them, we only favor their birth and progress by a peaceful 
and constant meditation. We arbitrarily give forms and 
coloring to the objects of the first ; in the objects of the 
second we discover inherent properties, which are shrouded 
with a veil, that levity and inattention do not penetrate. 

Purely instinctive inclinations have one thing in common 
with these artificial affections which are produced by the 
play of the imagination : both are favored by the effect 
of surprise, and are irritated by the opposition arising from 
material obstacles. Generally, also, they are most violent 
in their commencement, decreasing in the lapse of time, 
and ending in satiety. It is quite different with the senti- 

* All strictly psychological details are avoided in this work ; in which 
moral philosophy is made to rest upon experience : therefore phenomena 
so strictly united as those of the will and the intellect are not analysed. 
In the same manner, agriculture is abstracted from natural science. 



i 



POWER OVER INCLINATION. 77 

ments that result from reflection, and are cherished by the 
Love of Excellence ; feeble in their origin, they become 
strong in proportion as they are prolonged : they are also 
more vivid as they are better enjoyed, receiving their ener- 
gy from themselves, and not from the contrast of circum- 
stances. They are fully under the power of internal activi- 
ty ; from this alone they spring, and by this they triumph. 
Thus in the struggle of the soul against the inclinations to 
which it is subjected by its passive condition, it still has 
this advantage ; that it can oppose sentiments to them, 
which are at its own disposal, and the principle of which 
is found in itself; and it may raise these sentiments to the 
highest degree of vigor ; so that while the former decline, 
the latter will be constantly strengthened. 

We have said that instinctive passions are irritated by 
obstacles which proceed from material objects, or by causes 
simply contrary. They are calmed, on the contrary, by 
those which the moral law, clearly manifested, opposes to 
them ; and even when they are not reduced to absolute 
silence, their language becomes more timid and modest. 
There is a peculiar power in moral law over the tempests 
of the heart, and the disorderly tumult of the senses. The 
spirit of order and peace, of which it is the messenger, 
seems to insinuate itself into the agitated and troubled soul, 
and puts all its elements in their proper place. So the ap- 
proach of popular fury is delayed by the mere appearance of 
a grave and venerable man, even before he has spoken con- 
ciliatory words. A painful wound, which, when it is occa- 
sioned by a simple accident, or by the hand of an enemy, 
excites a decided emotion of irritation, seems tempered 
when the pain is imposed by duty. Simple necessity (that 
physical necessity, which seems to be a decree of fate) 
sometimes humbles us, because it leaves no hope of any 
usful resistance ; and sometimes irritates us, also, in pro- 
portion as there is no hope ; sometimes, even when we 
submit to it, the submission is bitter and sullen, like that 
7* 



78 SELF-EDUCATION. 

we yield to tyranny. But moral law subdues without hum- 
bling, because it raises our soul instead of discouraging it, 
and the submission it obtains is delightful to ourselves, be- 
cause it is voluntary. True self-government moderates our 
very inclinations ; for, as we have remarked, this govern- 
ment is not force merely, nor is it arbitrary ; it is stamped 
with real authority, the authority of reason and virtue, of 
which, in commanding ourselves, we become the ministers. 
He who seeks to govern himself from the mere motive of sat- 
isfying his pride, or some other material interest, will suc- 
ceed when this motive is stronger than his inclinations ; but 
he will not possess the secret of that active and hidden power 
which penetrates into the source of the inclination itself 
and modifies the original impulse. He is like a capricious 
despot loading a slave with chains ; and not like the magis- 
trate who is respected by those he governs. He does not 
command, he does violence to himself; he produces a shock, 
but does not exercise a power. 

We complain perpetually of the tyranny of the passions. 
We need only complain of ourselves, for, by neglecting the 
power which belongs to us, we become accomplices of their 
violence, and thus make heavier the yoke, under which we 
pretend to groan, and which we ourselves may lighten. 

3. Prudence and care rarely succeed in preventing, or 
in turning aside more than one wrong inclination ; but 
there is no heart, how pure and honest soever it may be, 
which is not beset at certain moments on all sides with 
extreme importunity, or surprised unexpectedly by a more 
or less violent attack. Then art is not sufficient ; we must 
have courage, vigor, boldness, and constancy. Here we 
must display the third power. This is the time for open 
combat and victory. Then, whatever the assault upon our 
will may be, it will not shake the ramparts ; the enemy can- 
not penetrate into the sanctuary where we dwell, unless 
we consent to give him access. We are free so long as we 
do not capitulate ; consequently we are all powerful ; for 



POWER OVER INCLINATION. 79 

our determinations spring from ourselves alone, and our 
actions will submit to our own voice and no other. Incli- 
nations merely solicit us, and we are innocent of them so 
long as we do not favor them ; when they redouble their 
intreaties, our merit may be increased ; when they seem to 
threaten most to bring us to shame and servitude, we learn 
all the extent of our power, and all the grandeur of our 
nature. The struggle would doubtless be unequal, if the 
will presented itself alone, unarmed, and resisting for the 
vain pleasure of showing its independence ; or if its allies 
were other inclinations of the same nature, inconstant, or 
weak ; but it receives the aid of a superior and moral pow- 
er. We oppose the Love of Excellence to solicitation, and 
duty to desire. It is when we are clothed with this virtu- 
ous dignity, that resistance take its most imposing charac- 
ter. This trial will doubtless be difficult, and long ; but 
what is the recompense? It is one which explains all the 
destiny of man ; for it comprises the secret of his morality 
and happiness. 

The exercise of each of these three branches of self-gov- 
ernment depends in part upon circumstances, and partly 
upon the individual character and dispositions, which may 
render either one of them more necessary or more easy. 
But it is useful to combine them as much as possible. 
When united, they form a complete system of internal gov- 
ernment : and our nature is so weak, the enemies of our 
happiness are so numerous and terrible, that we are not 
allowed to neglect any aid. The grand art of securing 
our triumph in those extraordinary circumstances which 
require all our courage, depends, in the greatest measure, 
upon the care we take to enter the field of battle, properly 
prepared, and in possession of all our arms. 

Self-government, after all, however, is only a means of ex- 
ecution, which must be subjected to the Love of Excel- 
lence, to which it is destined to minister. So in political 
governments, public power, under its three principal forms, 



80. SELF-EDUCATION. 

is Still but an organ of the laws, employed to secure their 
triumph. And we should constantly consider this great 
moral power in this its most essential relation. 



CHAPTER II. 



LIMITS AND MODERATION. 



Man is a finite being, who tends towards infinity. He is 
in a narrow sphere, and continually aspires to enlarge it. 
In this tendency there is something just and laudable, but 
it may go astray. All that is right in it, should be resolved 
into means of perfection ; and all that is wrong, repressed by 
moderation. It is for the Love of Excellence to remove 
those limitations which are obstacles ; and, for self-govern- 
ment to preserve those which are a protection. By the 
former, we satisfy the essential desires of our nature, and 
answer to the future; and by the latter, we conform to 
the present conditions of our being. 

The limitations which we are called on to remove are 
those, which our ignorance, efi'eminacy, and vicious inclina- 
tions have placed around us ; but we are called upon to re- 
spect those which the general laws of nature or of society 
have established. The first are, however, those which we 
dare not pass ; and the second we try to break through. We 
stop before obstacles of our own raising ; and attempt to do 
violence to destiny, instead of trusting in the guardian 
boundaries, which nature has placed around our fragile ex- 
istence. 

All order in the physical, in the intellectual, and in the 
moral world, results from proper limitations justly respected. 
The mechanical lever acts only as long as it meets with 
resistance in the fulcrum. No material force is kept up any 



LIMITS AND MODERATION. 



81 



longer than there is a moderator ; and it becomes more 
energetic in proportion as it is better restrained.* Even 
the harmony of celestial movements is owing to the recipro- 
cal attractions, which, presenting opposing obstacles to their 
course, retain each body in its orbit. So in society the power 
of industry arises from respect to property ; individual wealth 
from economy ; and social as well as physical order is con- 
sequent upon the balance of action and resistance. Polit- 
ical power is founded upon respect for laws, and preserved 
by the very obstacles, which the securities, given to indi- 
vidual and collective rights, oppose to private ambition and 
to the wrong use of power. So the rays of the sun, strik- 
ing upon objects, reveal them by being reflected from their 
surfaces, and we only know matter by its resistance. Per- 
ceptions become distinct, and consequently objects of com- 
parison, by the boundaries which separate them from one 
another ; forms are determined by the lines which termi- 
nate them ; and quantities by the degrees to which they are 
limited. All harmony is the result of relations exactly esti- 
mated, and relations are estimated only so far as they can 
be measured, and measure is the application of reciprocal 
limits. In a word, every thing is vague, uncertain, and 
confused, until limitations have been placed and acknowl- 
edged. 

It is also necessary that the will of man fix some starting 
point, and that it stop seasonably, in order to grasp the end. 
Privation guards pleasure, and abstinence protects virtue. 
Every rampart is a boundary as well as defence. The soul 
is strengthened by the habit of respect, and the action of 
free and intelligent beings agrees with the general harmony, 
because we fix for ourselves limitations on the model of 
those, with which we come in contact. Moderation is in 
itself a power, peaceable, regular, constant, and invincible ; 

* The celebrated Joseph Montgolfier was accustomed to trace back the 
principle of all grand discoveries in mechanism, to the art of imprison- 
ing forces. 



82 . SELF-EDUCATION. 

a power destined to restrain the energy and activity of the 
soul within the confines, which answer, on one side, to the 
reach of our facuUies, and, on the other, to the objects 
which are assigned them ; a power which checks us that 
we may be capable of acting better, and which represses 
our aberrations, that we may more successfully go on in the 
right direction. We here meet with one of those dispensa- 
tions of Providence, which we cannot sufficiently admire : 
this moderation, which is the secret of virtue, is also the 
secret of happiness. Sobriety is the first condition even of 
sensual pleasures. " Use without abusing " is a rule, which 
comprises all the counsels of prudence. In the external 
world there is only a given provision of materials for pleas- 
ure ; in the internal world, only a certain capacity to re- 
ceive it ; our desires and fears embrace an indefinite sphere, 
because they mount on the wings of the imagination, which 
creates for itself new regions beyond the compass of reali- 
ties, and renders present enjoyment more keen and exqui- 
site when the spur of desire is still felt ; while, if the shadow 
of fear appears, we become more strongly attached to what 
we possess. Reality must be mingled with expectation, and 
the present live upon the future. Voluntary temperance 
unites with sensual enjoyments a delicate sentiment, which, 
arising from the consciousness of our own liberty, height- 
ens its value. We relish pleasure in proportion as we gov- 
ern it, instead of being governed by it. Hence arise those 
joys, so innocent, pure, varied, and inexhaustible, which 
are the privilege of those in mediocrity. Privation continu- 
ally enhances their enjoyments, because it prevents satiety ; 
every object is of more worth, because of use ; every thing 
is fruitful, and nothing burthensome. How remarkable, 
that the limitations of property should render the enjoyment 
of it almost infinite ! * The opulent please and refresh 

* The extraordinary man, who, at the commencement of this age, 
was for a time the most powerful upon earth, said one day to the author 
of this work, that he could not conceive of the enjoyment of property, 



LIMITS AND MODERATION. 83 

themselves, by seeking in poetry the representation of a 
happiness, which flies from them and takes refuge in the 
cottage. Obscurity also has its charms; relieving the 
burning anxieties of self-love, and giving a kind of inde- 
pendence. In obscurity, as well as in mediocrity, there is 
repose and secret satisfaction ; for, being freed from vain 
desires, harmony between our situation and the narrow 
proportions of our terrestrial existence is restored. 

Inclinations are not bad of themselves. They become 
vicious only by the aberrations and excesses, which lead 
them from their legitimate objects, or destroy the proportion 
which should subsist between them. Morality should be 
understood only to repress natural inclinations. The power 
of man over his inclinations is given to regulate, not to 
destroy them. They are useful, and it is by morality that 
they are to be preserved so ; for it is morality which pre- 
scribes to them their just limits ; but the government of 
them becomes more difficult in this view, for these limits 
are not easy to estimate or to preserve. We sometimes 
succeed better in stifling, than in checking, the impetuosity 
of emotion ; and we can remain inactive more easily, than 
we can restrain ourselves while in action. 

Struck with the consideration, that the inclinations lead 
us astray, and become corrupted by not attaining, or by 
going beyond, their proper objects, Confucius and Aristotle 
have made virtue consist in a just medium. If we were to 
take this definition in its literal sense, the two philosophers 
would seem to take the eff'ect for the cause. But they, 
perhaps, meant to designate the cause by the eff'eci, and 
then their definition should be rendered in other terms ; 
making virtue consist in self-government, of which modera- 
tion is the fruit, and consequently the characteristic sign. 

and he explained it by saying that he possessd every thing. It is 
necessary to say, however, that he added, he enjoyed having every thing 
to give. 



84 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Passionate men delude themselves, and glory in their 
aberrations, imputing them to a supposed power ; as if there 
were any reflection in the emotion which leads them astray. 
What is a power passing into us without arising from reflec- 
tion, or belonojinff to ourselves? What is its merit? In 
the opinion of passionate men, moderation is cowardice, 
indecision, or indolence. Such is the constant language of 
political parties. According to them, one has no opinion of 
his own, unless he runs into extremes. Partisans have not 
sarcasms enough to heap upon the wise and just citizens, 
who are strangers to every sentiment but that of the love of 
the public good ; they are indignant at that calm reason, 
which, by its silence and its attitude alone, pronounces 
censure upon them. Whenever political moderation is 
imputed to crime, or ridiculed, we may be sure that the 
state is the subject of faction, or the prey of party spirit. 
Passions are contagious : to be led astray, it is enough to 
yield to a received impulse, that is, it is enough to obey ; 
but in order to resist, we must keep free, and consequently 
be our own masters. 

A gross mistake can alone confound the insensibility of 
selfishness with the moderation of virtue ; selfishness resists, 
indeed, but resists generous emotions only ; moderation 
resists the exaltations of personal feeling ; selfishness is 
inactive, moderation calm ; selfishness bears no fruit, 
moderation prevents the excesses which would destroy us. 

Agitation and violence may proceed from extreme sensi- 
bility ; but they are always a sign of moral weakness. 
W^eak characters, given up without defence to events, and 
to other men, are moved, but do not move themselves ; they 
have impetuosity, but no aim ; and thus become the sport of 
continual change. Every thing goes by chance, and con- 
sequently all is confusion and disorder within them. Their 
impulses are contradictory in their succession, because they 
have no regulator. Their rashness is blind, and their dis- 
couragement is absolute, because they trust in artificial power, 



LIMITS AND MODERATION. 85 

and think they possess what they only borrow ; and they 
are left without resources when it abandons them. 

In consequence of an analogous mistake, we sometimes 
take indecision for impartiality, because hesitation and 
doubt prevent us from choosing between two contrary deter- 
minations. But true impartiality, which is the result of 
moderation, does not consist in not determining, but in reg- 
ulating our determinations by the real merit of things ; not 
in immobility, but in choice ; not in negativeness, but in 
just proportion. It is firm, because convinced. There is 
no more solid union than that which is founded upon har- 
mony of relations, and the exact agreement of reciprocal 
conditions. Impartiality does not judge between error and 
truth, and good and evil; but between the contrary exag- 
gerations, which corrupt truth and excellence by a mixture 
of evil and error. 

Indecision of mind may doubtless sometimes arise from 
conscious and self-confessed ignorance ; but there is on the 
other hand, nothing more positive than presumptuous igno- 
rance. The indecision which is most difficult to cure, and 
which is really a mental disease, proceeds from narrowness 
of intellectual vision, united to a certain subtlety in the 
manner of perceiving ; there being just enough penetration 
to see by turns all sides of a subject without enough power 
to embrace and sum up the whole at once. When an unde- 
cided mind ceases to doubt, it becomes positive ; thus skep- 
ticism is resolved into a blind credulity, and credulity into 
skepticism ; and we see these two dispositions sometimes 
unite and qualify each other. 

Indecision of will arises from indifference ; it is the con- 
sequence of a lethargic weakness, which takes all power 
from motives. In certain cases, it is also the sad conse- 
quence of a blind self-love ; for sometimes the law of moral- 
ity and the love of virtue can alone turn the balance between 
contrary inclinations ; between the advantages we may 
hope from a courageous resolution, and the sacrifices it 
8 



yb SELF-EDUCATION. 

demands. The elevated,, however, sometimes, show an 
indecision about little things, which astonishes the vulgar, 
and makes them smile. It is because the latter do not 
understand indifference to interests which are so important 
to the frivolous. Weak minds, on the contrary, hesitate 
about weighty and serious things ; because they are too 
heavy for them to lift. 

Exaggeration in ideas is a consequence of precipitation 
of mind ; it is for reflection to circumscribe. Now, precipi- 
tation, like impatience, is a sign of weakness. 

Exaggeration in feeling is the consequence of a bewilder- 
ment which masters us ; we can only examine what we 
govern. We often designedly exaggerate our ideas, because 
we feel the feebleness of our conviction ; and of our feelings, 
because we feel the weakness of our will. 

However painful self-restraint may be, our self-love often 
receives more willingly the limits we put upon ourselves, 
than those which are given us. The first are our choice 
and our work. Thus we take a secret pride in temperance. 
We resemble those princes who like to descend incognito 
into private life, but would not consent to be kept there 
against their will. 

The lot, which has been assigned us in society, is an 
enclosure v/hich limits our rights, our property, our pleas- 
ures, our pretensions, our most simple movements, perpetu- 
ally, and on all sides; curbing the insatiable desire for 
spontaneous activity which is natural to us. This enclosure 
seems to become narrower for each individual, in proportion 
as the developement of civilization, multiplying his duties 
with his relations, increases the enormous disproportion 
between what he perceives and what he can attain. It also 
seems to become narrower for those who compose the 
largest class of society. We say, it seems narrower, 
because, although the barriers are not nearer, their pres- 
ence is more keenly felt ; and on all sides a thousand pros- 
pects are opened to ambition of every kind. Moreover, the 



LIMITS AND MODERATION. 87 

sight of SO many blessings and honors lavished upon others, 
which are not the reward of merit, not only awakens all 
the incentives to cupidity and envy ; but more noble senti- 
ments also arise to lead astray and torment the heart. We 
possess within ourselves the fire of an energy which demands 
what we are destined for ; we feel within us faculties which 
demand a larger theatre of action ; so we envy wealth, not 
its treasures, but the elegance which surrounds it, and the 
independence it procures ; we envy power, not its proud 
pleasures, but its possibility of diffusing a beneficent influ- 
ence over the human race ; we hail the image of glory in 
our dreams, and think we are worthy of the highest desti- 
nies. In proportion as we mingle with the world, seduc- 
tions of this kind become more powerful. If, from the 
effect of some transient circumstances, the ranks of society 
are for a moment confounded, if rapid and unexpected v/ays 
are open to fortune and to honors, the temptation is strength- 
ened by the examples we have before us, and by the possi- 
bility of success. How then can we be preserved from 
inquietude and bitterness, and peaceably restrain ourselves 
within the humble sphere, to which we are perhaps con- 
demned? — or be content to make only those slow and 
progressive efforts to get beyond it, which are generally the 
only lawful ones? For, although the desire of raising and 
expanding ourselves is the motive of all industry, it must 
renounce the violence which conquers while spoiling, and 
subject itself to those regular labors, which alone are truly 
fruitful, though they become so insensibly. 

But it is not enough to be resigned to our condition ; 
we must also be content with it, v/hatever it may be ; not 
only for the sake of happiness, but for usefulness and for 
virtue. We effect nothing with success, if we are ill at 
ease ; we do nothing well, if we are wearied by restraint ; 
there is a habit of inward joy, which is necessary to facili- 
tate the practice of excellence. The principle of all har- 
mony disappears, as soon as we feel ourselves out fo place. 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



This is one of the great diseases of the human heart, partic- 
ularly at certain times and in certain countries. Nothing 
is more difficult, perhaps, than to lay hold of that exact and 
just medium between the apathy which renders us incapable 
of improving our condition, while following the general 
interest, and the disorderly impatience, which agitates and 
destroys, while wishing to take possession and produce. 

Neither is it enough to know how to be content with the 
social situation which falls to our lot. There is a more 
painful cause for resignation, because there are mental 
limits which touch us still nearer ; and it is to be remarked, 
that this trouble especially affects gifted men, for they have 
a more vivid and enlightened perception of these limits. 
Consumed by a thirst for truth, their reason every where 
meets with barriers which check investigation ; and they 
feel their own impotence. But perhaps nature would refuse 
them the power of making truth prevail ; and perhaps cir- 
cumstances would prevent them from making it welcome to 
others. The noble passion of virtue burns in their souls ; 
but sometimes their will is rebellious, and resists, or fails at 
the seasonable moment : they conceive of excellence, yet 
are hurried away to what they condemn. They have more 
to bear than outward difficulties ; for they often have to bear 
with themselves. The more elevated they are, in the pro- 
pitious hours of sublime contemplation, the more they feel 
the weight of their insufficiency at the moment of action, 
and are surprised to find that they fall below themselves. 
Should there be a moderation, then, which would suppress 
the love of truth, and zeal for excellence ? No ; bat there 
is a true virtue, which teaches us neither to be discouraged, 
nor to presume upon ourselves ; there is a moderation in 
pretensions and in hopes, which is resigned to the imperfec- 
tions of our nature ; and this is the more difficult in propor- 
tion as the ideal end to which we aspire, without being able 
to attain it, is more elevated and laudable. 



LIMITS AND MODERATION. o9 

A desire for excitement explains the greater part of 
liuman actions, much better than the reasonings of interest. 
This not only deceives interest, but it easily triumphs over 
it, even when the latter is armed with all its logic. Now 
excitement, and its charms, cannot be measured by a com- 
pass, or estimated by geometrical calculations ; they cannot 
even be always foreseen, because they. depend upon a thou- 
sand circumstances, and upon the secrets of individual dis- 
positions. How bold then are the systems of legislation 
and morality, which suppose man always led by calculations 
of interest ! It is an error, of which theories upon public 
economy have often shown the effects. The love of novelty, 
the blind passion for lotteries and gambling, and even the 
attractions of such dangers as a military life offers, spring 
from this desire of excitement, seeking to gratify itself in a 
thousand ways. Hence the charms of violent passion. 
Agitation is also a fruitful source of excitement, and as 
disorder causes agitation, and is a continual cause of sur- 
prise, we desire to derange the accustomed course of things. 
As destruction is sometimes a grand and imposing spectacle, 
the desire of excitement becomes, as a natural consequence, 
the too frequent cause of tlie misfortunes of states and indi- 
viduals, making lamentable corruptions in public and private 
morality. We seldom do evil for the sake of the evil, but 
often we do it to enjoy the sight of the agitation it produces ; 
and this helps us to account for the indefinable inclination 
which certain beings have for cruelty. Here may also be 
found an explanation of the not less inconceivable phenom- 
enon, which depravity sometimes presents, when it unites 
cruelty with voluptuousness. 

I'o moderate the love of excitement then is the chief 
career for self-government; and it is difficult and immense. 
We must strengthen the soul by tempering its emotions ; 
restore it to health by calming that burning fever which 
tliirsts for excitement ; and, by teaching the will to stop 
seasonably, we must unfold its energies at the time of need. 
8* 



90 SELF-EDUCATION. 

We must also moderate impetuosity by exciting gentle 
affections ; and arouse dejection by awakening noble senti- 
ments ; and keep all the powers of the heart attentive and 
docile to the signal they may receive from reason. But 
how and by what right will this internal power lay upon 
them such restraint ? We have said ; itself an organ of the 
legislator, it has borrowed his authority, and proclaims the 
decrees of the moral law itself Prudence might advise 
moderation ; but it could not always give the courage neces- 
sary to its own counsels. There is no constantly uniform 
moderation, except that which is founded upon duty. 



CHAPTER III. 



STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 



Strength of character is that habitual power over the 
will, by which we triumph over obstacles, and nourish in- 
flexible determinations that nothing external can shake. 
It is always implied in moderation, especially if we are 
moderate when impelled to extremes. It is the supreme 
act of moral liberty, and must not be confounded with dis- 
positions and qualities that borrow some of its effects, with- 
otit having its characteristics. It is a strictly moral power, 
and constitutes the distinction of man. 

There is a sort of natural moderation, a phlegmatism of 
nature, the gift of temperament and humor, which protects 
some men against emotions. There are fewer sufferings, 
fewer causes of fear, fewer wounds for men thus constituted. 
Existence being more material, they are less accessible to 
pain. But this is a sort of paralysis ; it is independent of 
will ; it draws from trial no fruit or merit ; it is the sleep of 
the soul, not the courage of virtue. 



STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 91 

There is also a rigidity of character which admits no for- 
eign elements, repelling grief and danger; this is disdainful 
pride, obstinacy, inflexible habit. Motives are nothing to 
this kind of character, for there is no acting from reflection : 
it may be considered a rampart against trial, rather than a 
means of rendering trial profitable. 

There is, thirdly, an indiflerence of heart, through which 
some men are always quiet, because they are not capable 
of being interested. They have neither feeling nor fore- 
sight ; they are calm, because vacant, and have neither 
combats nor triumphs. But this is apathy, and not strength 
of character. 

On the other hand, there is sometimes a warmth of tem- 
perament, which is kindled [by the presence of dangers, 
irritated by obstacles, taking pleasure in excitement, in- 
stinctively generous, and especially fond of great and bril- 
liant efforts. But this is a gift of organization, not the 
result of will ; mere animals are not without it. It is apt 
to fail in time of need. Trial loses its character and be- 
comes enjoyment to this kind of temperament. 

There is also an exaltation of mind, which subjects reali- 
ties to illusions. To this state of mind, every thing seems 
easy ; the present disappearing before the world which the 
imagination has created. It distances trial, and veils it from 
sight. The veil, however, must be withdrawn at last, and 
the spectacle will be the more terrible to the beholder, who 
is not prepared for it. Besides, this state of mind is change- 
able in its nature, and it is followed by a dejection which 
deprives us of our natural resources. It is not real strength. 
The excess of the passions, also, seems to escape pain 
and fear. We know that the most acute sufferings are sus- 
pended by a lively and sudden emotion. The passions 
therefore produce a sort of heroism, but it is limited by the 
exciting object. This is another way of avoiding trial with- 
out competing with it. The impulse by which the soul is 
carried along, is external to itself, and cannot be governed. 



92 SELF-EDUCATION. 

The soul is feeble, when the passions have thus carried 
away all its energy. It does not always avoid the adversa- 
ry ; for it wants discernment in the choice of means, and 
creates new trials in the future, casting itself from one rock 
to another. This is moral fever, not health ; violence, not 
strength of character. 

Strength of character is nothing exaggerated, affected, 
artificial, tumultuous, or unequal ; it does not live upon 
error, or belie nature, or stifle lawful affections. Its seat is 
not in the imagination, nor in the organs, nor in any thing 
external to the moral nature. It consists entirely in Self- 
government, the principle of which is found in the sanctua- 
ry of conscience. It does not escape grief, but feels and 
accepts it. It does not turn from danger, but confronts and 
measures it. Hence the virtue, which consists in a sense of 
moral obligation, is called strength ; for this fidelity is most 
fully displayed in the triumph gained over such enemies, 
and reaps in this victory it most precious reward. 

Of all the moral qualities, strength of character is the 
most indispensable : it is the first of which man feels the 
want ; for pain and fear await him on the threshold of life : 
it is also the first which is developed in the character of 
nations. In the very infancy of civilization, savages have 
given prodigious examples of firmness in suffering ; and 
the heroic age of every nation belongs to the period of its 
early civilization. True heroism consists in acting out 
strength of character, carried to its highest degree of ener- 
gy. It imposes more upon the vulgar, when it manifests 
itself in contempt of pain and death ; but it is best mani- 
fested in that magnanimous calmness, which triumphs over 
the vicissitudes of life, over the tyranny of power, over pop- 
ular passions, and over opinion ; or in the religious tran- 
quillity through which we support that secret anguish of 
heart, which is most terrible of all. It is especially mani- 
fested in obscure life ; where there is no support but our 
virtue, and man, far from the theatre of glory, struggles 



STRENGTH OF CHARACTEPw 93 

alone, without relaxation or hope of release, against unknown 
sufferings. It is doubtless right and useful to raise monu- 
ments to extraordinary men, who have left traces of light to 
mark their career to after ages. Providence permitted their 
heroism to be displayed to the world, that all might be excited 
by their noble examples. But where will be found crowns 
for the unknown heroes ? Yet it is they, whom we are all 
called upon to imitate, for they live in our own sphere, in 
the common condition ; the trials, over which they have 
triumphed, meet us at every step ; the power they have 
opposed to them is the only one which belongs to all men. 
Glory to this, the true heroism, which has no witnesses of 
its triumphs, which even wishes to remain unknown ! 

Strength of character, considered as an active power, is 
not the faculty of making and supporting energetic resolu- 
tions without motives ; it is the faculty of carrying into res- 
olutions an energy and constancy, proportionate to the 
greatness and importance of the motive ; it is the power of 
assenting and adhering to motives. It consists partly of 
feeling and partly of conviction. It necessarily supposes a 
liberty of thought, which examines things and judges of 
their real value. It disdains mean, transient, and frivolous 
interests, and needs a wide and solid foundation. It is 
animated by a principle eminently moral. Generosity is the 
first principle of strength, but perseverance is also necessary 
to carry out the resolutions courageously formed : for that 
which charms the heart, the circumstances that aid us at 
the first moment, may change their aspect afterwards ; 
difficulties are discovered, which we may not resist, unless 
prepared for them ; therefore Self-government should come 
to aid our dejected will, obliging us to go on as long as the 
motives are unchanged, and bringing truth and duty as the 
support of the motives from which habit has worn away the 
charm. 

It is the same with strength of character, considered as a 
resistance. We are subject to inward vicissitudes, when our 



94 SELF-EDUCATTON. 

ideas are confused, our feelings weighed down, and every- 
thing appears changed, because we ourselves have changed. 
Self-government prevents some of these revolutions, modifies 
others, and, when it cannot arrest them, because they pro- 
ceed from some disorder in our physical organization, binds 
the tottering will by the chain of memory. 

Courage and patience are our resources against possible 
misfortune, and present misery. The courageous have this 
advantage over the patient, that they can turn away from 
the thought of evils not yet in existence, and keep up the hope 
of escape, and thus have the image of pain transiently pres- 
ent ; while the patient wrestle bodily with a real enemy, 
from which they cannot disengage themselves; every in- 
stant seeming to exhaust their strength, while at every suc- 
cessive instant new strength is demanded, and to this strug- 
gle there seems no limit but the tomb. 

The courageous have another advantage over the patient ; 
they generally brave a danger of their own choosing; and 
Providence, in mercy to our weakness, seems to have cast 
a. veil over the dangers that are inevitable ; thus a given 
danger becomes a sort of pathway, by which to attain a 
desired end, or to escape a greater evil ; and hence it 
comes, that there are so many different forms of courage, 
according to the nature of the blessing, or of the safety, 
which we desire to purchase at this price ; and it becomes 
confounded with the calculations of prudence, and some- 
times may be resolved into very great fear. * Patience, on 
the contrary, is exercised over evils that are unsought, and 
under the iron yoke of necessity ; most frequently without 
any selfish interest, or expectation of recompense. Men 
seldom brave death, except in the presence of witnesses ; 
but they ordinarily suff'er in solitude. There are many 

* Valor is often an extreme fear of opinion. King William's page 
who showed such great intrepidity during the passage from Holland to 
England in a tempest, explains it in his own words ; — ''I feared lest 
they should see that I was afraid," 



STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 95 

pains of the soul which it is necessary to conceal. More- 
over we generally act, in time of danger ; and action sup- 
ports us ; but patience is exercised in stillness and in silence. 
The patient, however, have their advantages ; they know 
the evils which they endure ; they can define and measure 
them ; they are exempt from the fear that creates a thou- 
sand imaginary dangers, and from the vagueness and dis- 
tance which give to real dangers exaggerated proportions. 
There is a limit to actual suffering, while there is none 
to the apprehension of evil. The hardest trial is that which 
joins the experience of present evil to the prospect of an 
impending misfortune. And as our deepest grief is in our 
feeling for the sorrows of others, there is nothing more 
distressing upon earth, than to see those we love, suffer, 
and fear to lose them at the same time : at least, there is 
but one trial more bitter ; it is to see those we love, debased 
and corrupted. 

When the author of the " Maxims " took so much pleas- 
ure in diminishing the merit of martial courage, he perhaps 
made a judicious analysis of the kind of courage which does 
not have its source in strength of character; but he left 
the merit and glory of true courage untouched. Do we 
wish to have an infallible means of recognising the truly 
courageous? Let us examine whether they are equally ca- 
pable of civil courage ; whether they can confront the 
frowns of the powerful, that they may support the cause of 
justice and innocence : for real strength of character is one ; 
and when it exists, it is the same in all applications, especial- 
ly in those which answer most immediately to its principle. 

The sentence by which all nations and all ages have 
condemned fear of danger, and of all evils purely physical, 
is a sentence unanimously and manifestly pronounced by 
human instinct, against the theory of the book De V Esprit. 
For on the theory of that, nothing can be more absurd, or 
even ignominious, than to sacrifice the only true good, from 
which all others flow, and to which, according to its logic, 



96 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



even honor must be referred. But it has been universally 
and always felt, that there is for man a good, superior to 
sensual life and earthly existence. 

Moralists, and particularly the moralists of antiquity, 
have had exaggerated ideas concerning strength of charac- 
ter, when they have supposed, that all the means of its tri- 
umphs are drawn from the depths of the soul ; and that the 
will can struggle with obstacles, with no other arms than 
its own resolution. Strength of character is something 
more useful and elevated, and at the same time less harsh. 
It does not leave men in darkness. We cannot conceive of 
a great moral force, unless by the assistance of powerful 
motives. The faculties of the soul, being protected in their 
liberty amid the storms which assail them by Self-govern- 
ment, each of them brings in its aid ; while reflection 
invokes, at need, every consideration, calculated to sustain, 
encourage, and console. Sometimes strength is attained 
by yielding to emotions. This virtue, then, is not mute 
and immovable, like material force or mechanical resis- 
tance ; it is rich in thoughts and sentiments. It presents 
itself to the combat, escorted by allies as numerous as they 
are useful. The constancy of savages is rather a quality 
than a virtue ; it is aided by nothing moral ; it arises partly 
from temperament, and is in some sort muscular. But the 
firmness or constancy of the wise man, is displayed with 
more lustre in the decay of the physical organs : it supposes 
no peculiarity of temperament, age, or sex; but it supposes 
the habit of feeding upon the meditation of excellence. 
Thus, in danger he does not, like the vulgar brave, confront 
peril, to display his own energy, and struggle for the very 
pleasure of the struggle ; but the images of the duty to 
which he is devoted by a reasonable sacrifice, are present 
to his mind ; he thinks of the benefits which society may 
receive from his devotedness : he does better than brave 
danger : — he enjoys the sublime pleasure of foreseeing the 
advantages which his fellow men are to reap from what he 
does ; this is his true laurel ; generosity is his courage. 



STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 97 

In the pains and sufferings that afflict humanity, Self- 
government lends a double aid to strength of character ; it 
moderates that natural irritation, which, reacting upon 
suffering, redoubles its intensity and plunges still deeper the 
arrow which wounds ; and it insensibly turns the sufferer 
from the tendency which he feels to concentrate himself in 
the present, and fold himself up in himself It turns him 
into the circle of virtuous affections, and to future prospects, 
where are regions inaccessible to the arrows of present suffer- 
ing ; and to a refuge where we do not cease to suffer, it is 
true, but where grief no longer absorbs all the faculties of 
the soul. A soul, that is filled with noble passions, suffers 
less from purely physical evils in consequence. 

Those who have suffered much, and reflected upon their 
sufferings, well understand that involuntary impulse, which 
hurries the soul to the contemplation of its grief, as if in 
spite of itself, and condemns it to increase its own misery : 
they know the relief procured by resisting this impulse, 
and driving grief to the surface of existence, and refusing 
all concurrence and cooperation in the impressions it causes. 
But they know also how difficult is this effort ; for it must 
be a calm as well as an energetic effort. It is secretly and 
powerfully aided by moral influences, which call forth all 
the activity of the soul to give repose and calmness, and to 
paralyse and suspend that fatal involuntary cooperation, by 
which it redoubles its sufferings in reacting upon them. 
It is doubtless a kind of diversion ; nay, it is more, — a 
healing influence circulated through the veins of our sensi- 
bility. There is even a pleasure in the very bitterness of 
suffering, as is well known to the disinterested friend, — 
to the mother, who suffers for the good of her child. And 
there is not any trial which admits not of a similar remedy, 
even among the trials of those affections which are less inti- 
mate. " Let me suffer, or else let me die, " exclaimed the holy 
Theresa, in the purest flight of divine love ; and in those sub- 
lime words she did not merely express the desire of a merit to 
9 



98 SELF-EDUCATION. 

be acquired; she intended also a kind of heroic pleasure, 
which transforms pain into a sacrifice of love.* This observa- 
tion is so true, that, even in the art of healing, it is found, 
that the influence of the moral affections prevents the exas- 
peration of the maladies of the body, and favors the medicine 
which is applied to cure the patient. But in the sufferings of 
the heart, or when danger and grief threaten and overwhelm, 
not ourselves, but those we love ; the wise man will need a 
loftier courage, and a more difficult patience. The heart 
of sensibility alone knows the secret of that deepest sorrow, 
in which the heart repels with just indignation all the aid, 
which might distract its attention from the sorrows and 
dangers of others. Even virtue is here in union with sym- 
pathy, associating itself, by the most tender interest, with 
the woes it relieves. Here, then, the functions of self-gov- 
ernment experience a considerable change. As suffering 
is the necessary means of generosity, strength of character 
accepts the suffering without reserve. Unlike personal sor- 
row, it is not dejected, nor cowardly, but full of activity ; 
breathing only love ; redoubling our strength ; suggesting 
to us means of relief; and inspiring the consolations which 
may give relief. Here again it is from generosity that self- 
government draws the aid which contributes to strength of 
character. There is nothing which we cannot support, or 
that does not become easy, if we feel that it is useful to 
those we love. Love is the most certain and ready source 
of courage. The mere spectacle of our patience is useful 
to those who witness it ; and if our courage cannot be use- 
ful to those around us, let us go farther : we shall find other 
images of excellence, other duties, other hopes : we may 
always convert our sorrows into the sacrifices of duty. The 

* In observing the effects of pain on soldiers, and on men whose moral 
existence is not much developed, we find it is free, with them, from the as- 
sociations of recollection, and of anticipation ; from comparisons, and a thou- 
sand distressing reflections : and it is this accompaniment, perhaps, which 
renders its weight insupportable. 



STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 99 

elevated will comprehend us ; and may thus bring us their 
experience, Avhich reveals more in regard to this sublime 
refuge, opened to human nature, than we can express in this 
place. We can now only speak of their example, and 
invite all to follow it. 

It is only in these great revelations, in this last order of 
moral influences, that are discovered the resources which 
strength of character opposes to another kind of trial, the 
most cruel of all, against which man is least defended ; — 
we mean the mourning of the heart over the last farewell 
of those we love. Would it be strength of character to arm 
ourselves with insensibility against this sorrow ? Ought we 
not to hold in horror a virtue which would be faithlessness 
of heart? Giving up affection to escape from grief, is only 
weakness of another kind. True strength of character, far 
from refusing to the affections the faithfulness which belongs 
to them, aids us, after the fatal hour of separation, to pay 
them a more worthy tribute ; aids us still to love while we 
suffer ; and to rise by love still higher than suffering. We 
are capable of resisting despair, not by breaking ties, but 
by preserving them. For pure love is power animating us 
in our affliction and becoming heroism in the very bosom of 
despair. But that love may still be preserved, and renew its 
ties, and affection be something more than an empty word, 
there must be no absolute separation but only simple 
absence : our souls must still whisper, though in mysterious 
language, " We meet again ; " — and must understand, too, 
all the deep meaning of these words : in short, there must 
be another future beyond this mortal life, another country 
besides this earth. And without this future, what would be 
the affections of man even upon earth ! What would he be 
himself? Surely, the future is ours ; that other country is 
our home ! If its image is sometimes veiled, it is not so 
much that our reason doubts, as that our characters are 
disarranged and disconcerted. If we want confidence, it is 
because our soul is in dejection, and wants the energy 



100 SELF-EDUCATION. 

necessary to conceive, seize, and dwell upon lofty thoughts, 
like the terrestrial navigator, who, fearing that he may be 
buried in the waves, cannot conceive the possibility of 
reaching the shore. But love restores to us our confidence, 
because it forces us to hope. Strength of character also 
supports reasonable convictions, by preventing decay of 
mind, as well as of heart ; disorder of ideas, as well as of 
feelings. 

True strength of character, then, as we mean to define it, 
differs essentially, in this point of view, from the strength 
of character cried up by the sages of antiquity, particularly 
by the Stoics. That was only a sort of frozen impenetra- 
bility, we might almost say savage, ferocious, barbarous. 
It was a state contrary to nature ; could it then be a virtue, 
worthy of the name of strength of character 1 And more ; 
it was something almost unintelligible, an energy without a 
motive. It is doubtless necessary that in the exercise of 
Self-government we should oppose the assaults of sorrow, 
sufficiently to prevent the agitation sorrow might produce 
in our moral faculties ; but, by strength of character, which 
keeps every thing within an equilibrium and harmony, w^ 
find grief itself its own remedy. For amidst the images of 
excellence we recover intercourse with those who have dis- 
appeared from our sight; — and by preserving and reanimat- 
ing our power of practising excellence, we resist the 
assaults of sadness. Thus our remembrances become con- 
secrated, and the tribute of our affections more worthy its 
object. 

To do right, — is not this serving those we love, if we 
love truly ? To become better, is it not to approach them ? 
Thus, the strength of character which is instituted and 
recognised by virtue, does not mutilate man ,• it invests 
him, on the contrary, with all the greatness of human 
nature. It does not extinguish, but it enobles grief. It 
does not make us forget those we mourn ; it rather leads us 
to find them again in mysterious relations, imperfect for us 



STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 101 

at present, but fruitful in hopes. It does not forbid our 
tears ; it renders them worthy of those for whom they are 
shed. 

There is, however, another and far different trial of 
strength of character, which threatens it in the very point 
where it should find support. It sometimes happens, that 
the government of our own faculties is partly withdrawn 
from us, without our being able to resume it. This is 
observed, for example, in hypochondria, and in certain 
nervous affections, and various maladies, which, without 
producing real alienation of mind, yet so sensibly alter the 
play of our organs, that the soul, which employs and de- 
pends upon them, inevitably feels an inward and peculiar 
malady ; objects change their color and form ; vague, invol- 
untary, unsought terrors take possession of us, leaving us 
no power to master them. In vain we call to our aid the 
recollections of the past and the prospects of the future ; 
the first offer only heart-rending regrets, the last only mourn- 
ful images. We wish to take refuge in moral meditations, 
but the sanctuary is closed. We seek the objects of affec- 
tion, to be reanimated by their presence, but they seem to 
be covered with a funereal veil, and, in spite of itself, the 
soul doubts of their affection and its own. This is a sort of 
delirium, not entire, but more painful to him who feels it, 
than total alienation of mind ; for he is conscious that his 
faculties are in disorder : he sees his own difficulty, yet is 
impotent to restore the harmony. The affliction caused by 
this inward spectacle redoubles the horror of his situation. 
How much is the evil increased, if it is joined with violent 
bodily suffering, or deep mental anguish ! What a singular 
trial of virtue ! Who has described such a state 1 Who 
has pointed out the regimen that can bear us through it 
unharmed? It is doubtless extraordinary, and consequently 
little known ; it cannot be imagined by those who never 
felt it. Ho\tever, virtue may still triumph. So long as 
there remains to man a ray to enlighten his mind, an 
9* 



103 SELF-EDUCATION. 

element of liberty in his will, he may conjure the storm. 
However much he suffers, though he suffer agony of soul, 
amid the thick clouds which surround him, yet faithful 
to Excellence, to which he was consecrated, he may still 
assert his fidelity, disown the dark thoughts which obscure 
his vision, and, standing on a rock, amid the lashing 
waves, raise his eye to heaven, whence serenity will sooner 
or later descend upon him. Abandoned by all, he has 
but a single act of soul to exercise, simple, persevering, 
but sublime 1 the act of blind resignation to the Supreme 
Will. 



CHAPTER IV. 

INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 

We sometimes take strange ideas concerning Law, which 
are most unfortunate, when they lead us to mistake the 
end for which it is given. Some confound Law with force ; 
and essential and primitive Law with its expression or 
organs. Hence arise false notions about independence and 
obedience ; two dispositions, which we suppose contradic- 
tory, although they are perfectly in unison, produced from 
the same principle, which is justice, and maintained by the 
same means. Self-government. 

Far from force being Law,* their characters are diamet- 
rically opposite : the one is all darkness, the other all light. 

* This monstrous idea, whicli derives law from force, and which would 
overturn all morality, one philosopher has, however, dared to erect into a 
system. It is true, that Hobbes was (he partisan and apologist of absolute 
power ; this explains all : the theory was worthy of the application. The 
savage, also, identifies physical force with moral power; but, moie rea- 
sonable than Hobbes, he deduces the first from the second. 



INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 103 

The spring of one is mechanical, that of the other moral. 
One compels our Will, the other lays obligations on it. One 
makes itself feared, the other venerated. Law can employ 
force, which is an instrument ; but force, being but an 
instrument, cannot create Law, which is a principle. No 
human law subsists by itself, or from itself. All social 
power is the minister and depositary of an anterior authori- 
ty, — that of the Moral Law, made express' and positive. 
It represents society, whose rights it exercises, and whose 
duties it fulfils. By pretending to be autocratic, it would 
disavow and annul its title. The obligation we are under 
to submit to social power, is not derived from the will of 
society, but the will of society is the expression of Law, 
which alone imposes obligation, and which rules by its 
organ — society, because it rules society itself. 

There is a Law for the intellect, as well as for the heart, 
and these unite and aid one another in virtue. The Law 
for the intellect, far from excluding conviction, accompanies 
it, and is founded upon it. It is only the power of truth ; 
and the power of truth consists in its direct manifestation, 
through evidence ; or in its indirect manifestation through 
deduction. Hence the expression, "the authority of evi- 
dence and of reason." But deduction may be drawn in 
different ways, and reason may become consequent to itself, 
by sometimes renouncing reasoning, and submitting to^ 
authority. 

To be witnesses, ourselves, of external or internal facts 
perceived immediately, or to compare elementary notions, 
is to ycrccivc. To deduce general laws from these facts, 
and complex propositions from these axioms, is to Icnoio. 
From perceived facts to deduce other facts, which cannot 
be directly known, is to believe ; and as probabilities are 
often the only result of this last kind of deduction, we also 
say, wc believe, when we mean to express our assent to prob- 
able facts. If the link which unites to our knowledge the 
fact which cannot be directly known, be a testimony, belief 



104 SELf-EDUCATlON. 

becomes faith ; faith adds to belief a moral sentiment of 
confidence, founded upon esteem or respect. 

Faith, then, is a homage, rendered to the authority of 
testimony. This homage consists in reason's giving up 
direct demonstration. But the authority of testimony rests 
upon what certifies the presence, veracity, and capacity of 
the witness, and upon what gives us reason to think, that 
the witness has been clearly anderstood ; and all this is in 
the province of reason. Faith in our fellow-men brings 
only a less or a greater probability. Faith in the Divinity 
is full and entirely securCj for it is faith in an infallible tes- 
timony ; in truth itself But, if the Deity has not granted 
to the human race the favor of an immediate cummunica- 
tion, the certainty of the facts which declare that He has 
spoken, and that this language has been clearly understood, 
remains to be established by common logic ; and, if He has 
chosen an organ, the same reasoning must be employed in 
order to acknowledge that organ. All intellectual Law 
then supposes the authority of evidence. 

There is a multitude of facts, which are believed through 
the testimony of men ; and we ought to be happy in being 
thus freed from the necessity of a multitude of verifications ; 
but the veracity of the testimony is itself a consequence, 
deduced from previously acknowledged truths : and the au- 
thority of testimony dispenses with an examination, only 
when it is itself the accurate product of another examina- 
tion. We follow our guide with our eyes shut ; but it is 
because we know beforehand who this guide is. 

It is therefore overturning all ideas, to substitute, abso- 
lutely, the authority of testimony for examinations, and also 
to make both primitive facts and evidence itself proceed 
from the authority of testimony. It is reasoning in a circle, 
and destroying with one hand what we pretend to build 
with the other.* What has just been said upon the Law of 

* "Reason," says Saint Augustin, " receives assistance from authority, 
which makes us know what ought to be believed ; and the first authority 



INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 105 

the intellect, applies to that which rules the will : as the 
first proceeds from evidence, so the second flows from duty ; 
the first is truth, the second is good. 

The judiciary of a country are ministers of public moral- 
ty, and witnesses are the ministers of truth. The first pro- 
claim what is good for society, and the second certify what 
is real in facts. Authority, then, is essentially beneficent, 
so far as it springs from Law and is faithful to the mission 
of administering Law. 

There are indeed some duties, concerning which con- 
science is not decisive, because we do not possess the 
necessary data for estimating them. There are, also, some 
persons less capable than others of knowing them, and of 
measuring their extent ; children, for example. There are, 
besides, some general duties, which cannot be resolved 
into determined, particular, and positive actions, only so 
far as they take an express and special form, by individual 
will, or by a majority, which uses language like an individ- 
ual ; such is that duty, which calls us to serve society. 

The order given by the magistrate in peace, and by the 
general in war, is an organ necessary to render this duty 
applicable and real in practice. 

Respect for social order is in the first rank of duties. 
Now, in society there are collective rights, which can only 
be exercised, and collective actions, which can only be 
performed, by a single person, or by a small number, in the 
name of all : there are certain general and correlative oper- 
ations, which must be executed in harmony, that order 
may subsist, and that they may produce some fruits. Hence 
authority is confided to a single person for the maintenance 
of this harmony. 

is that of truth, already known by evidence." In another work, he main- 
tains another paradox. " Two guides," he says, "are offered for our in- 
struction, authority and reason. Authority is the most simple, and is the; 
way for ordinary men ; reason is the guide reserved for the wise maOx'' 



106 SELF-EDUCATION. 

There is no right which does not suppose a duty, nor 
duty which does not include a. right ; it is therefore a 
strange error to suppose, that rights and duties are distinct 
or even contrary : they differ apparently, only because 
the same principle is considered in two different points of 
view. 

Lawful authorities can no more be opposed to one another 
than duties. Morality which is one, is their common source. 
But they are reciprocally limited, as duties circumscribe 
each other. 

But the individual is not only subjected to foreign author- 
ities, he also exercises over himself a peculiar authority ; 
and he has his own rights secured by a common authority, 
even as he is to respect the same rights in others. Hence 
the distinction of independence and obedience, their limi- 
tations, and their harmony. Being parallel powers, they 
touch without interfering with one another. Each one is 
perverted as soon as it invades the region of the other, and . 
each acquires more extent, in proportion as the other is 
better defined. 

Independence resists violence, and obedience submits to 
4uty. Independence breaks away the obstacles which are 
.opposed to the recognition of our rights ; obedience repress- 
es within us the movements, which threaten the rights of 
others. Independence is a kind of obedience to the Law 
of our own reason.^ obedience is a kind of independence, 
which triumphs over the passions. Self-government is the 
principle of both these virtues, for it gives power both to 
jesist tyranny, and to accomplish duty : at once prohibiting 
iServiJity and licentiousness .; freeing from the fear of op- 
pression; teaching us to suffer ourselves to be ruled by 
what protects us ; calling independence to repress arbitra- 
riness, and obedience to ser\^e justice, and both to be the 
auxiliaries of virtue. 

Yet we invert these two functions eontinually. Obedi- 
ence is placed upoia the groui^d of independence, and 



INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 107 

becomes servility ; independence is put upon that of obedi- 
ence, and becomes rebellion ; one bows before force, the 
other braves Law. This double mistake is sometimes made 
by the same man. It is not only the fault of inferiors, but 
often proceeds from those who command ; the latter, when 
deceived about the nature of the power which they exer- 
cise, mislead those who obey, whether inferiors then submijt 
or resist. Obedience, moreover, is commonly neglected by 
those to whom it would be most useful, and independence 
by those who have the best right to it. 

There are some men, who may be said not to know how 
to will, and are charmed to find some one who will take the 
trouble to will for them. Feeling as if they could not be 
moved by a foreign impulse, they go to meet force and 
seem attracted by it, as if it would infuse into them the 
energy of vital warmth, which they need. They not only 
respect force, but feel tenderly towards it, and seem almost 
to love it; they admire it in proportion as they are weak, 
and this admiration becomes worship ; for they have to 
make a religion of servitude, and persuade themselves that 
they fulfil a duty, that they may conceal their shame, and 
enjoy a more perfect repose. They reserve all their indig- 
nation for the oppressed ; if he oppose the shadow of a 
resistance, they do not pardon him for thus troubling the 
security they seek under the shelter of material power ; 
they almost bear malice towards innocence, if it importune 
and acuse them of their servility, and remind them of rights, 
which they have endeavoured to forget. 

But, if weakness of character be a manifest cause of ser- 
vility, self-interest is not a less fruitful and common cause. 
The weak range themselves under the standard of force ; 
not that they may be exposed to its blows, but that they 
may receive its protection. They go to it, as to the most 
direct and simple means of obtaining, without industry or 
merit, the accomplishment of their wishes. It is an igno- 
minious barter, in which they exchange their rights for the 



108 SELF-EDUCATION. 

objects of their ambition. Affection and veneration, the 
two tributes which cannot be won by force, compose the 
tributes that servility offers, as the most precious and rare. 
And for the very reason that force is not lawful, and has no 
titles, the servile carry to it, as the surest means of pleasing 
it, factitious titles, which may make it lawful in its own 
opinion. Victorious injustice never wants cowards to be 
servile to it, courtiers to flatter it, and mean sophists to jus- 
tify it. These are given, or rather sold, to it by self-in- 
terest. 

Among the different forms of selfishness, there is one 
which appears, at first, not to conduce to servility of char- 
acter ; at least, it haughtily pretends to be free from it : this 
is vanity. It is true the vain often resist reasonable and 
just authority ; for they are unwilling to acknowledge moral 
and intellectual Law ; but triumphant force always finds 
them much better for its purposes than we should be tempted 
to believe. History testifies this constantly. The powerful 
trafic with them, and offer them, in return for the sacrifice 
of real rights, some part of their glory and influence ; the 
shame of the sacrifice is concealed, and the recompense 
fflitters ; besides, the vain indemnify themselves for the 
humiliations they undergo, by those which they distribute 
below themselves. There are few causes which make men 
more dependent upon others, than the inexhaustible inter- 
ests of vanity. Yet as all wish to appear independent, the 
vain are reduced to take the only means left to them, which 
are, to disavow and to violate subordination. Among nations 
which pride governs, several have known how to enjoy lib- 
erty ; but in those where vanity rules, not one. 

The success of force often deceives the imagination, 
through the illusion which accompanies the sight of all that 
is extraordinary and gigantic. Men are inclined to sup- 
pose something marvellous in its principle of action. By 
means of this vagueness, which surrounds a wonderful thing, 
the phantom of a mysterious authority is introduced ; false 



INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 109 

ideas of dignity and glory gather round the gloomy image 
of force, and lend it a counterfeit brilliancy. They are 
dazzled and fairly subjected. They cannot presume that 
one human creature can subdue another, without the aid 
of some unknown moral power ; and while admiring* the 
effect, they respect the cause. This especially happens, 
when power, although not rightful, is supported by talent 
and genius. Servitude appears honorable, because men 
think, that, by serving the successful, they i)orrow some of 
their glory and honors. But this illusion takes place only 
v/hen the sacred notions of justice have not preserved in the 
soul the authority, which belongs to them : it seduces only 
those v/ho have suffered themselves to be corrupted. In 
general, all servility is great unfaithfulness to the moral Law. 
Servility takes from justice, what it carries as a tribute to 
power. After being spoiled of our own rights,' we shall 
willingly abandon those of others, or rather we commence 
with this last sacrifice. 

Of what use is free space to a man whose limbs are par- 
alysed ? Yet such is the pretended independence of him, 
to whom every thing is possible, except ruling himself. 
True independence belongs only to the free soul. It is 
self-government which confers moral emancipation ; and it 
is by obtaining this control, that man becomes sui juris, as 
lawyers say, and is able to conceive, undertake, and accom- 
plish all that he is capable of, and to act with all his facul- 
ties. Then his thoughts, opinions, sentiments, and resolu- 
tions, are his own. He becomes creative; for man can 
create only by the help of what he draws forth from himself: 
he creates only through the power of the will. He is able 
to do without the independence which fortune gives, and 
which is reserved to so small a number of social situations. 
He can preserve, even in chains, the freedom he has receiv- 
ed, for he acknowledges no other master than himself, and 
no one can make him bend. The despot, armed with all 
his thunders, and surrounded with all his train, turns pale 
10 



101 SELF-EDUCATION. 

in his presence. Truth and equity are a secure deposit in 
his hand. He becomes upon earth a new, a moral power, 
and rallies around him the conscience of the good, and 
represses tyranny by the majesty of his attitude alone. 
Should he become the martyr of a holy cause, his example 
will live in posterity to encourage the timid, and be one 
day the object of emulation. 

True political liberty protects all lawful independence, 
and leaves access to no servility, but at the same time cir- 
cumscribes independence within proper limits. It is only 
justice secured. It therefore establishes and maintains the 
difficult and advantageous equilibrium between indepen- 
dence and obedience, and strengthens them reciprocally. 
But that justice may be secured, the rights of all must be 
determined and represented, in the action of the political 
powers to which all are subject, and by which all are cov- 
ered with a common shield ; order and stability being even 
considered in the first rank of rights, and of wants, since 
they cover the others with a general safeguard. 

The flatterers of power deceive it about its true interests, 
when they repeat the common axiom, that the principle of 
its authority must be covered with a cloud. Power, which 
is Unlawful or uncertain about its titles, is the only power 
which this advice can benefit ; for by the help of obscurity, 
force may be taken for authority. But power founded upon 
just pretensions, will only gain by producing them ; other- 
wise its authority might be taken for force, and it would 
lose in conviction what it might appear to gain in extent. 
Besides, it is only by determining the true principle of au- 
thority, that v/e can discover its bounds ; and all authority 
is weakened and compromised, as soon as it passes its lawful 
limits, because it then loses its character ; putting its moral 
rights in question ; making itself doubtful ; challenging 
resistance ; making resistance just in a degree ; and even 
opening access to unjust resistance, and becoming a source 
of difficulty, by awakening discussions which are dangerous 



INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. Ill 

because they can only be terminated by definitions and 
distinctions which the multitude cannot comprehend. The 
secret of always commanding successfully, is to command 
only what we ought; and the ascendency of authority con- 
sists in its remaining irreproachable. Thus, obedience, 
or rightful submission, is not less necessary to public liberty 
than individual independence : it should even be severe in 
proportion to the extent of the latter ; for obedience is the 
condition of individual independence, and, that the one may 
be preserved, the other must know how to respect. 

With what pretext soever pride may seek to cover its 
resistance to lawful authority, resistance cannot be honora- 
ble. On the contrary, obedience is honorable, because it 
is a homage rendered to the moral Law, and also because it 
is one of the most generous sacrifices to the moral Law that 
it is in the power of man to make. There is much more 
true courage in obeying when we ought, than in resisting ; 
were it only because the former is much more difficult than 
the latter. '' By obedience," you say, " I should renounce my 
will and ownership of myself." But is not obedience a volun- 
tary act ? What is it to obey, except to know how to command 
ourselves? The vain and frivolous, who pretend to be their 
own masters, although they are only slaves to their o.wn 
inclinations, would confess, if they were sincere, that they 
only resist obedience, because obedience is difficult ; that 
is, because it expresses a sacrifice to duty. How great is 
the heart, where right is enshrined, as in a temple, and 
where its worship is preserved in purity ! Blind that we 
are, to what greatness might we rise, if we would only fear 
to debase ourselves, and should consecrate ourselves to right ! 
Doubtless, Law must be just, that obedience may take this 
character ; but if it were not just, would it be Law? 

The weak have their kind of opposition to the laws of 
authori;y. Law not only commands to refrain and forbear, 
which is often difficult for the weak, but in certain cases it 
directs us to act and to presevere ; prescribing efforts 



113 ' SELF-EDUCATION. 

at which the weak are terrified. Besides, the weak are 
changeable and capricious ; they want the unexpected and 
new, and fear what is fixed and determined. The effemi- 
nate resist obedience as they would a severe regimen. Not 
only the passionate, but the enervated, soldier refuses the 
yoke of discipline. 

But the principal cause of resistance to the laws of au- 
thority, is always insatiable selfishness : Law curbs this, 
because it puts reins upon it. We say we wish to be inde- 
pendent, but in reality we want to usurp. Obedience, 
finally, is meritorious and useful, in proportion as it is faith- 
ful to its principle, and, consequently, only so far it is moral 
and enlightened. If we obey Law from the same motive 
from which we submit to force, we do not obey, we yield ; 
and if we submit to Law from interest merely, we follow a 
selfish inclination ; we still do not obey. In all this there 
is not a single idea of duty. We often find in children's 
books, apologues composed to teach them obedience, by 
proving to them that parents and masters only command 
them to do what is really useful. It would be better to 
address these fables to parents and masters, rather than to 
children ; because they would then learn what they are often 
ignorant of, — the true use they ought to make of their 
authority ; but they give to children a false idea of obedi- 
ence, if we abide by the morality which results from them. 
The child must learn to see in submission, not utility only, 
but moral obligation. Besides, you might give him an 
argument which would turn against your own views. 
Indeed we must never forget that man very often does not em- 
brace what is most useful, even after having discovered it. 
If you wish to teach obedience, you must teach two things, 
rectitude and self-control ; the one as Law, the other as the 
means of fulfiling it. 

Obedience, when clearly understood, is composed of 
respect and confidence. The sentiment of respect is some- 
thing which softens, collects, calms, and purifies the soul ; 



INDEPENDENCE AND OBEDIENCE. 113 

it benefits and quickens the heart, and produces a kind of 
religious impression. To know how to recognise and ven- 
erate what is above us, is to approach it ; and to feel our 
inferiority, is to prepare ourselves for becoming great. 
Respect elevates the soul, because it developes the faculty 
of appreciating w^hat merits its homage ; it establishes the 
only possible intercourse between ourselves and what is 
above us, also making us worthy of cultivating this inter- 
course. 

The sentiment of confidence gives encouragement and 
repose. It supplies us with the strength we fail in, and 
preserves and nourishes what we possess. It is noble, 
because there is always something noble in what is gener- 
ous, and because confidence takes us from ourselves and 
gives us to others. The generous self-abandonment which 
accompanies it, disposes the heart to openness, and thus 
renders it more accessible to the affections. 

Love makes obedience easy and delightful; and obedi- 
ence, rightly understood, prepares the way for love. Love 
gives to childhood its docility ; gratitude continues its 
influence by giving to confidence its noblest securities. 

Obedience is then a great and general means of progress 
for the human race. It serves to sum up and personify the 
ideas of excellence for the use of those, who might not be 
capable of finding them out, in all the generality of their 
principles, in the whole extent of their consequences ; and 
it clothes those ideas in a familiar language. Is it not with 
this design that God has so disposed things upon earth, that 
the most common condition of man is that of obeying, and 
that he has called the most ignorant and numerous class, 
and the weakest beings, more especially, to obedience ; so 
that civil subordination becomes a kind of ladder, destined 
to raise us progressively to the knowledge of our duties, 
while at the same time, it is, as it were, a succession of 
supports, designed to assist us in our eflTorts? Thus we 
10* 



114 SELF-EDUCATION. 

may remark, that great numbers are disciplined by the 
practice of obedience. 

We also see some men, who are improved by the exercise 
of authority ; and it should always be so. We can well 
conceive how he who is called to the honor of serving as 
an organ of the Law of excellence, should be penetrated 
entirely with its spirit, while he is its depositary ; and how 
deeply he should meditate upon it, that he may serve it 
faithfully. Yet experience shows us, that the exercise of 
authority does not often do good to those to v/hom it is 
entrusted ; sometim-es it even corrupts them. Less occu- 
pied with the deposit they have received, than with the 
privilege they enjoy ; turning their eyes, not towards the 
source from which their mission comes, but towards the 
theatre for its accomplishment, they use authority as a kind 
of right Vv'hich naturally belongs to them ; they accept the 
obedience of others as a personal tribute, vanity usurping 
and corrupting the power in their own hands ; thus while 
thinking to exalt, they debase themselves ; and resign their 
true dignity ; for pretending to command others, they lose 
power over themselves. 

Happy is he, who can understand how to be free while 
obeying, and to serve while commanding ! 



CHAPTER V. 

RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITY. 

God has destined man to be the prime agent on earth, to 
reign by means of the arts, and, as it were, to complete His 
work, by subduing, regulating, and cooperating with the 



RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITY. 115 

powers of nature, by favoring the developement of its vari- 
ous organizations, and by transforming, combining, and ap- 
propriating its productions to a multitude of uses. He has 
inspired this superior agent, therefore, with an unbounded 
desire for motion ; exciting him to both internal and exter- 
nal activity ; the one consisting in the exertion of the will 
and the operations of the mind ; and the other in the play of 
the organs and the exercise of the body. From this well 
known desire, properly satisfied, may spring abundant 
external fruits, and the most delightful internal state. If, 
on the contrary, this fundamental, imperious desire is not 
satisfied, or satisfies itself blindly, we may fear all kinds of 
destruction and disorder without and within ; all kinds of 
trouble, suffering, and error. The rightly directed exercise 
of activity is also the essential condition of the develope- 
ment of the faculties of the mind and heart; it is necessary, 
that it should mark their progress, prepare their applica- 
tions, and preserve habitual harmony among them. It is 
to the health of the soul, what motion is to the health of 
the body. 

It belongs to a good and wise civil government to prepare 
the means in the external world, for individual activity to 
take its regular course, and to divide the labor among indi- 
viduals. The wisdom of such a government will consist, 
especially, in leaving all paths free ; in removing obstacles 
and extending impartial protection to all men. It belongs 
to a good and wise moral government, i. e. to Self-control, 
to regulate the activity of each individual, by pointing out 
the most useful career, by keeping him in it, and ordering 
the employment of all his faculties, in a manner the most 
likely to make him pass through this career profitably and 
v/ith honor. Society often errs in contributing to the devel- 
opement of activity among its members, while, at the same 
time, it excludes them from most of the ways in which they 
could hope to exercise it ; but we often err on our part 
also, in not taking advantage of the ways which are open 
to us. 



116 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Sometimes we feel, without understanding, this want of 
our nature, and suffer we know not why, seeking happi- 
ness every where, except in activity, which can alone give 
it. We thus become troublesome to ourselves ; objects lose 
their value and interest; and because we are useless, every 
thing becomes indifferent to us. Being ourselves good for 
nothing, nothing seems to us good and profitable. This 
moral disease especially threatens conditions which are for- 
tunate, or reputed such ; and sometimes poisons all the 
enjoyments of fortune. For being supported by vanity in 
those false ideas which make happiness depend upon 
exemption from fatigue, they refuse that regular activity 
which might relieve them. It is true they continually seek 
change, and call for new sensations in a thousand ways ; 
but as they remain passive, the wants which devour them 
are left unsatisfied, still acting as stimulants of the secret 
inquietude which torments them, and which, not being 
able to take a right course, is deceived and perverted, and 
takes strange and capricious forms ; perhaps is converted 
into a morose and gloomy misanthropy ; perhaps plunges 
them into the abysses of voluptuousness ; perhaps suggests the 
insatiable desires of vanity, until moral strength is exhaust- 
ed, and at length consumed ; or through the effect of the 
internal contradiction, which they nourish within them, 
existence is lost in a sleep of apathy. 

It is not opulence itself that involves this disease ; it is 
the leisure which is often the consequence of opulence. 
It is easy to create for ourselves in the midst of riches, a 
great and noble sphere of activity, and in mediocrity to 
remain idle. In all ranks, we meet parasites, who cannot 
mark out for themselves any career, who seem bound by no 
ties, and who move on, as it were, by chance. If such 
^persons have neither expansion of ideas nor fire of soul, 
they may enjoy a kind of negative happiness; but wo to 
them, however little they now realize their misfortune, if 
they always remain like strangers in the midst of the great 
human family ! 



RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITY. 117 

The same principle of moral disease, which produces a 
kind of marasmus in some, may cause a burning fever in 
others ; and we often perceive this towards the period 
between childhood and youth. In youth, especially, the 
desire for action is felt most deeply because all the faculties 
are impatient to come into exercise : but it is then, also, 
that inexperience and want of reflection expose us to mis- 
understand the secret wishes which agitate us, and that, 
eager to diffuse ourselves without, we may neglect to study 
what is going on in the depths of our heart. Besides, labor, 
which is the true vocation of activity, is a uniform and 
serious thing ; and the impatience peculiar to th^^ age, does 
not allow us to recognise in it that animated movement 
which our nature demands. 

Sometimes we witness a singular contradiction ; men 
who are ^urged on by the desire of activity, are kept in 
idleness by effeminancy ; the imagination keeps up a vague 
inquietude, but the will has not sufficient spring to embrace 
a sphere of positive operations ; and they neither enjoy 
action nor tepose. Sometimes, on the other hand, when 
understanding and perceiving their need of activity, they 
err by seeking a course for it, which is, in fact, impractica- 
ble, and do not let it take that which is possible. Some- 
times they undertake several irreconcilable courses at 
once ; at other times, they prematurely abandon that in 
which they are engaged, and change unnecessarily, forget- 
ting the great advantage there always is in going on, were 
it only to profit by experience. And sometimes they rush 
on their career, without taking time to make the necessary 
provision ; they begin to advance in it without having well, 
considered its end, and successive periods ; or they go 
on without plan or reflection. Then they experience 
reverses, and are weary, discouraged, and perhaps irritated. 
Thus they bring disorder and inquietude around them, and 
are discontented with themselves. They find they have 
already passed over a portion of life in vain ; they are 



118 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



astonished and afflicted at the errors they have committed ; 
they think them remediless ; bitterness takes possession of 
the heart ; life is discolored ; and they perhaps recur to the 
most dangerous emotions to divert or reanimate themselves, 
and prefer suffering to ennui. Most of the human passions 
are only the overflowing of an activity which has mistaken 
its true course. In this sense, and in this only, " The 
wicked man is a strong child ; '^ * or in other words, wick- 
edness is a power unable to regulate, because it is ignorant 
of itself 

But self-control prevents or restrains these various 
aberrations. First, it prepares for the study of self; we 
must be self-collected, before we can observe ourselves ; 
we must learn to measure our strength, before rushing upon 
the arena; we must employ all the authority we can obtain 
over ourselves, in order to oblige our heart to reform its 
desires, and our understanding its judgment. And self- 
control also leads us to repress those foolish inclinations 
which seek the impossible ; to accommodate ourselves to 
the sometimes severe and hard exigences of reality; — to 
conquer the difficulties, which can be overcome, how hard 
soever they may be ; to stop before those which are insur- 
mountable ; and to rise up courageously after falling into 
mistakes. It regulates the action and measure of all our 
faculties, and prevents them from being wasted. Beside 
choice and unity of purpose, two special conditions are 
necessary to prevent activity from being destructive, and 
to make it fruitful. These are perseverance and method, 
which, when united, compose conduct ; but which, even 
separate, are rarely well observed, and whose union is rarer 
still. A good internal government, that is, self-control, 
contributes very much to fulfil these conditions. 

Most of our designs are rather the result of chance and 
circumstances, than of our own calculations ; even those 

/"=— — " — — — ■ ' — — — 

* Hobbes. 



RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITT. 119 

which exert the most important influence over our destiny^ 
are often not dwelt upon with much maturity and reflection. 
We cannot resist any occasion which solicits us. We do 
not choose, but merely accept our course. He alone 
chooses, who commands ; but we can only command our- 
selves, not events ; and for want of knowing how to decide- 
as to what circumstances depend upon ourselves, and what 
absolutely resist us, we struggle against the inevitable, and 
neglect the possible. We neither know how to create a 
condition conformable to our character, nor to conform our 
character to inevitable conditions, among which we must,, 
especially, include those arising from social institutions and 
conventional arrangements. Hence proceed so many false 
and incomplete situations in the world, and the uneasiness 
which is the consequence of them ; and hence constraint, 
uncertainty, confusion, and suffering, in the exercise of 
activity. 

Our purposes, when thus determined by chance, are 
unconnected, and are not parts of the same plan ; they have 
no relation with any thing. Life is no longer formed of a. 
single tissue, but is composed of inlaid work, joined, and 
not woven together. Unity of purpose economizes the 
faculties, redoubles their energy by concentrating them, 
and makes them conspire together to lend each other mu- 
tual aid. But there can be this unity only where there is 
Law which assigns and preserves to each thing it rank : 
in society this is administered by public authority ; in the 
arts, by genius ; by reason in the sciences, and in the con- 
duct of life, by self-control ; but by self-control only so far, 
as it is the minister of virtue. 

Perseverance facilitates, brings to perfection, and con- 
solidates the execution of the plan conceived, and preserves 
its results when it is accomplished. By continuing to go 
on in the same way, at every step we take, light increases, 
obstacles are removed, habits are contracted, experience 
is acquired, the use of means becomes more familiar, the 



120 SELF-EDUCATION. 

relation of details to the whole is more clearly defined, 
security is obtained, and operations are more closely con- 
nected. Every beginning is an experiment ; but every 
experiment inevitably involves some error, and some loss of 
strength. If we make many attempts, between which 
there is little analogy, we shall be much fatigued, and 
become incapable of producing any thing. And every time 
we resume an interrupted performance, it is beginning 
again; and every suspension is a loss of time and material, 
and produces some imperfection and some want of harmony 
in the whole. 

The world is full of people who have conceived and 
undertaken great and noble things. Perhaps there is not 
one who has not formed some brilliant plans in early life, 
and hoped to realize them. All these buds of promise, 
however, are, as it were, borne away and dissipated by the 
winds, before their maturity. We see nothing but baffled 
or unconnected and incomplete performances. What was 
wanting? To a great number, doubtless, either knowledge, 
talents, the means of execution, or favorable circumstances. 
To a great number, however, nothing was wanting, per- 
haps, but perseverance to execute the plan, and carry it on 
to its end. The Athens of Italy is ornamented with a 
crowd of temples, v/hich rival each other in beauty of 
architecture ; but not one is finished. The Tuscans in 
this are a representation of what we all do every day. 

Inspiration makes men of talents, and experience men of 
skill : the first conceive, the second execute. These obser- 
vations do not merely apply to the works of art, and the 
management of affairs ; they apply also to the general plan 
of our conduct, in which our morality and happiness are 
involved. Here the applications seem less evident ; and 
we are especially slow in convincing ourselves of the radi- 
cal defect of our plan, or rather of the absence of ail uni- 
form plan. But we may take example from material opera- 
tions, in which the advantages of perseverance are more 



I 



RIGHT DIRECTION OF ACTIVITY. 121 



evident, and are acknowledged, even by those who cannot 
submit to the observance of it. It is deplorable, that those 
beings most often are wanting in perseverance, whom nature 
has endowed with eminent powers and treated with especial 
favor ; it might be said, that perseverance is a compensa- 
tion granted to mediocrity. Distinguished minds always 
have sentiments superior to their station, and views more 
extensive than the sphere in which they are placed. They 
contain mysterious things within them, for which they can- 
not account, and which, being developed, modify their 
dispositions. They are therefore exposed to be diverted 
from, and to mistake, the course which is suitable for them, 
and to be dissatisfied with what they have begun. They 
seem to struggle with destiny. Moreover, as they cannot 
guide themselves by common experience ; as they penetrate 
into unexplored regions ; as they rise higher than others, 
and find no more beaten roads; they sometimes get en- 
tangled in the midst of precipices, and are forced to retrace 
their steps. But change of plan is generally the conse- 
quence of weakness of character. The weak are restless, 
impatient, and seek change ; they cannot adhere to the 
motives which suggested their determinations ; they aban- 
don them at the first trial ; they yield to all impressions, 
and especially to those which are new, because they are 
most vivid ; they have no perseverance, because they have 
no self-derived impulse. In weak characters also, the 
imagination is less curbed and exerts more influence, and 
therefore it makes conduct changeable ; it continually 
balances the being, who has become its sport, between 
contrary exaggerations. Uniformity of action is, in several 
respects, a difficult, painful, and fatiguing thing ; it requires 
two kinds of effort, which are almost opposite in their na- 
ture ; it requires us to know how to sustain, and how to 
control ourselves at the same time : besides, it is without 
attractions, or rather, in proportion as it is prolonged, it 
takes their charm from natural things ; and novelty has 
11 



122 SELF-EDUCATION. 

such brilliant allurements ! How can we be astonished, 
then, that so many people leave their work half executed, 
and that we hardly ever find any thing really accomplished ? 
Those alone persevere and finish, who have learned to be 
masters of themselves. 

Method, in the administration of minute things, is what 
perseverance is, in the fixedness of the principal idea. 
Man, being unable to obtain any thing from nothing, and 
having the power only to collect ; his creations are mere 
combinations, which are more learned in proportion as they 
are complex and composed of various elements. Order then 
is the first merit of his works. As it alone constitutes their 
beauty, so alone it warrants their solidity and usefulness ; 
for it determines the relations of parts to each other, and 
the relations of the whole to the end. Order draws the 
general plan; estimates advantages; decides conditions; 
foresees difficulties ; and marks favorable occasions. Method 
establishes the preliminaries, and prepares the materials of 
the edifice. The elements, upon which we are to work^ 
are ofi*ered to us, scattered, and in heterogeneous medleys ; 
method draws them out, compares, classes, and puts them 
at our disposal, furnishing us with means of judging, at a 
glance, of the relative fitness of each, and of the place it 
should occupy in the structure. Method creates means of 
execution, adjusts the parts, and regulates the course of 
successive operations, so that each may profit by those 
which precede, and prepare for those which are to follow. 
It does not suffer an instant of time, a single effort, or any 
portion of matter to be lost ; it prevents lassitude and dis- 
gust, because, at every step, it allows us to measure our 
progress ; it keeps up strength, and gives encouragement, 
by the secret influences of the harmony which breathes from 
it. Method judges of the advantages, the use, and the 
seasonableness of what has been executed ; it furnishes 
means of preservation, and puts them within reach ; it 
alone can render wealth profitable, and prevent that con- 



TEMPER. 123 

fusion, through which nothing is properly used. It sim- 
plifies what is complicated, and diffuses universal light. 
It serves as an aid to memory, as inspiration to imagination, 
atid as light to the judgment. It calms and gives energy 
to the will, and produces facility and security in action. 
Even to see order reign around us, enables us to do every 
thing better, and feel a certain degree of inward serenity. 
The order which] is diffused without, penetrates us by a 
secret sympathy, and puts us involuntarily in unison with 
itself And method supposes beforehand the power of 
governing at once both our minds and the movements of 
our souls. It is a privilege of internal liberty. It is an ex- 
pression of Law ; that is, of enlightened authority. It is 
the very genius of reason, ruling all the faculties of our 
being. 

J' Abandon things to themselves, and, moved by heteroge- 
neous impulses, their confused jumbling will produce what 
we call chance. This will happen to our ideas, sentiments, 
and resolutions, if we do not first know how to govern 
them, and to bring them under the power of reason, which 
ought to be their regulator, 



CHAPTER VI. 

TEMPER. 

There is within us an influence, which does not proceed 
from ourselves, and yet does not come from without ; of 
which the origin, progress, and character are equally unde- 
termined. It is a kind of moral Proteus, a truly hidden 
power, which so governs our intellect, that we think we 
really see things such as it suggests them to us, and which 
so governs our will, that we think we wish for what it 



124 SELF-EDUCATION. 

prescribes to us. There is nothing logical or argumentative 
in it ; we know not whence it comes, or at what it aims. 
Every thing about it seems spontaneous and capricious. 
It is not one of our faculties, and yet it is identified and 
incorporated with them, modifying them at pleasure, and 
concealing them from our own observation. It moulds our 
minds and characters ; sometimes giving them so singular 
and unexpected an aspect, that we can hardly recognise 
them ourselves. Sometimes smiling and serene, it delights 
to adorn objects, and exhibit them in their most agreeable 
aspects, making every thing seem easy to us, flattering our 
hopes, quieting our vexations, disposing us to calmness, to 
forgetfulness of self, and seeming to bring both our inward 
life and all that surrounds us into harmony. Sometimes 
sad, restless, and even savage, it throws a pall over nature,, 
peoples the future with dark phantoms, agitates us without 
cause, pursues us with vain terrors, makes us torment our- 
selves, seems to rob us of our dearest affections, to corrupt, 
to poison every thing, even our thoughts, condemning our 
hearts to a kind of exile, and urging us to diffuse abroad 
our internal troubles. Thus it disconcerts the preconcep- 
tions of philosophy and morality ; sometimes seeming to- 
render their aid useless, so natural and light does it make 
the task which is imposed upon us ; and sometimes seeming^ 
to render us unable to follow their counsels, so thick is the ^ 
cloud with which it invests us. We see it lavish its favors 
upon the most ordinary beings, and overwhelm with its 
tyranny the most distinguished ; to sport with the same 
man, and put him in contradiction to himself, by making 
him feel by turns its tyranny or favors, not only at different 
periods of his life, but at different hours of the day. 

We are accustomed to call this power temper. Perhaps 
it has not occupied the attention of moralists sufficiently. 
There is something vague and confused in it, which escapes 
observation. But it would be rendering a great service to 
most men to mark it out for th^J^j and teach them to know 



TEMPER. 125 

it ; for, like all impostors, it loses the greater part of its 
means of success, as soon as it is unmasked. 

Let those rejoice, whom this hidden power has treated as 
favorites : let them accept its assistance, and profit by it, 
using their strength better, for the great object of life, — 
progress towards perfection. They would be guilty, if they 
did no better than others, since it costs them less to do 
well. But let them have two reflections constantly present 
to their minds ; let them not forget, that the portion of ex- 
cellence, when it is only the effect of a happy temper, is a 
blessjng rather than a merit, and that they must therefore 
take care not to glory in it, nor reckon it among their titles 
to esteem ; and let them not forget how inconstant and 
changeable this disposition is, and let them expect to need 
greater courage, when it shall cease, or change into a con- 
trary mood. 

To those whom it has chosen for its victims, it offers 
most abundant cause for the exercise of self-control, which 
is more difficult in this case, as they must seize a fleeting 
shadow, and can hardly distinguish the features of the 
enemy they are to oppose, and as a great effort of reflection 
is requisite to be sure of its presence. It is also the more 
difficult, because this enemy presses upon them on all sides, 
seizes them, as it were, bodily, and seeks to take possession 
of the arms that must be employed against him. 

The external education, which the customs of the world 
give, teaches men. to subdue the effects of temper, in their 
daily social intercourse, as a means of succeeding and 
pleasing in society. For the latter object an enlightened 
and cultivated reason, fidelity to the affections, generous 
and delicate conduct, are not enough ; perhaps indeed they 
are of much less importance than charming manners, facili- 
ty of intercourse, condescension and grace. But, thus 
debarred from outward expressions, the temper may only 
make greater ravages than where it is unshackled. And 
we frequently see people, who wear in society a serene 
11* 



126 SELF-EDUCATION. 

brow, and are gay and obliging, make those who impose 
less restraint upon them, pay dearly for the momentary 
sacrifice, vexing their own families with their temper, even 
obliging their friends to endure its effects, and their most 
intimate friends too ; because they feel more safe in intima- 
cy, and are more at ease. Yet the closer the ties are which 
unite us to others, the worse it is to deprive them of the 
enjoyment they may expect from us, — the worse it is to 
grieve them and make them suffer : for we may thereby put 
them in danger of mistaking our true sentiments, check the 
overflowings of confidence, destroy their self-surrendering^ 
trust, and interrupt the interchange of consolations and 
advice. Under this external restraint is produced and 
nourished susceptibility, which makes us imagine we are 
constantly injured by those among whom we live, as if we 
enjoyed a kind of satisfaction and complacency in thinking 
others guilty ; thus, after having made us commit real faults, 
suggesting new ones to justify the first ; so that, by a 
series of sad reactions, what was at first only an involuntary 
impulse, terminates in injustice, and sometimes embitters 
the most sacred and precious relations of life. 

Let us pity those, however, whom this j^hidden disease 
torments, and let us not condemn them with too much 
severity ; for it is upon themselves its blows chiefly fall. An 
undefined uneasiness besets them ; a strange poison circu- 
lates in their veins ; they suspect, accuse, and punish 
themselves without cause ; for temper, in order to oppress 
them, may even take the form of remorse. They fly from 
themselves as from a troublesome guest, and find themselves 
again in the midst of the distractions which they go out of 
themselves to seek. To them nature seems to have dried 
up the sources of the innocent pleasures, which are poured 
out upon others. 

What we call temper appears to be a general, and more 
or less habitual disposition of the imagination, which, 
without being attached to any precise object, diffuses over 



TEMPER. 127 

all the same hue, and afterwards, from the intimate relation 
of our ideas with our feelings, extends, if not into the depths 
of the heart, at least upon its surface, and is confounded 
with our inclinations. Sometimes this disposition is a nat- 
ural effect of physical temperament, or of the momentary 
state of the organs. In this case, if it have a sorrowful 
character, morality has no remedies to carry to the principle 
of the evil. We cannot help suffering ; we are merely 
permitted to suffer with patience : we cannot help being 
solicited by impulses fatal to our character and happiness ; 
we are allowed merely to disavow them and refuse ourselves 
to them. We must establish a wall of separation between 
these blind influences, and our own will ; and take refuge 
in our conscience, as in an asylum which they cannot reach. 
As vigilant sentinels, we must be constantly on our guard 
against any subtle dangers which may surprise us. At the 
moment of a crisis, and when a kind of fatal delusion 
transforms the realities of things to our eyes; when a veil 
seems to cover the images of the true and the good, which 
charmed us in happier moments, we must oppose the testi- 
mony of our remembrances ; and let the storm pass away, 
in hope of the return of a more serene horizon. Then we 
shall acknowledge, how advantageous it is for man to have 
formed for himself, beforehand, fixed and rational maxims, 
that regulate his sentiments and settle his opinions, so that 
he is never unprovided and defenceless in those deserts, 
which he must sometimes traverse to complete the journey 
of life. Thus the prudent man will provide himself, during 
the brightness of the day, with the knowledge and disposi- 
tions by which he is to be guided in the midst of darkness ; 
and congratulate himself on having established his self-eul- 
ture upon solid foundations. 

But if the state of the temper depends partly upon physi- 
cal causes, it equally depends upon moral causes ; and if we 
cannot directly check its effects, we can indirectly prevent 
them, by acting upon principle. 



128 SELF-EDUCATION. 

A peevish temper is the natural consequence of the satie- 
ty and disgust which accompany excess of pleasure ; of the 
lassitude which succeeds to the violence of passion ; and 
of the mistakes which punish presumptuous ambition. It 
arises from the contrast between our pretensions and our 
-situation, between our means and our desires. It arises 
not only from our discontent with our fate, but from every 
species of uneasiness : it is the sad consequence of a want 
of self-satisfaction ; of the remembrance of irreparable 
errors, and of our feeling the necessity of covering and 
concealing shameful weaknesses. A black vapor seems to 
arise from every moral distemper, and obscure the soul's 
horizon. Even the aberrations of virtue may produce a 
similar effect, through the abuse of solitude and the excess 
of austerity. 

Hence temperance derives new motives to avoid all exag- 
geration, as well as new motives to moderate our wishes to 
the measure of our condition. Hence also arises a new argu- 
ment for accepting the pleasures offered to virtue, for en- 
joying peace and serenity, for not breaking the alliance of 
duty and happiness, and for accepting the doctrines, which, 
according to the instructions of morality, heighten the value 
of true and pure pleasures, and save us from exaggerations, 
which might render us too severe towards ourselves. If 
we wish to try a remedy, which, when we are beset by the 
vapors of a sad and gloomy temper, never will be ineffica- 
cious, let us seek to give to others consolation, happiness, 
or even mere pleasure. This remedy is infallible. If we 
are in a solitary situation, in which we can find no aid by 
being useful to others, the care of mere animals, relieving 
their sufferings, providing for their wants, and procuring 
them comfort, has been known to clear away these vapors. 
Weak characters are most exposed to be surprised and 
governed by temper. Every thing wounds them, and they 
do not know how to resist. They cannot will what they 
desire. They contradict, belie, and torment themselves. 



ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 129 

They live in chaos. They are not firm enough to remain 
bound to their resolutions and principles. They are dis- 
contented with things, because they are unable to master 
them : and with themselves, because they continually dis-^ 
appoint their own expectations. 



CHAPTER VIL 



ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 



Among the numerous errors, which arise from the asso- 
ciation of ideas, one of the most common leads men to 
overrate the value of the instrument, and confound the 
means with the end. The very important consequences of 
this mistake to morality, we have, more than once, had 
occasion to remark ; and among its consequences we may 
uow observe, that it has served to give credit to false and 
dangerous ideas of the merit of self-control. Men forget 
that this merit is essentially relative ; they suppose, that we 
cannot sufficiently triumph over ourselves ; that virtue con- 
sists in victory rather than in the end for which it is gained ; 
that it is good morality to sacrifice one's self as a victim, 
without considering upon what altar the sacrifice is made. 
And has not the same cause led us to transfer the ideas of 
glory to public opinion, which is only its organ? 

It is true that by preserving the direction of all the pow- 
ers, keeping each one in its proper rank, and by presiding 
over the whole economy of our internal being, we fulfil 
one of our chief duties, and at the same time present 
the noble and majestic spectacle, of the accomplishment 
of a mission received from God. For, in so doing, we sup- 
port the dignity of our nature, and preserve one of the 
noblest works of the Creator, to the end for which it was. 



130 SELF-EDUCATION. 

destined. This is one of those duties, which admit of no 
interruption. But although man ought always to have 
command of himself, it does not follow, that he ought con- 
tinually to restrain himself; or that every exercise of self- 
government thereby becomes worthy of praise. Law is not 
always in action, nor is it an insatiable principle. There is 
sometimes more real strength in the attitude of repose; and 
often more wisdom of government in moderating the sacri- 
fices that are required of us. The exercise of this internal 
power, like that of external power in society, changes its 
nature, ceasing to deserve esteem, when it ceases to be use- 
ful. Tributes are not an obligation, when they cannot be 
made use of. This fundamental mistake seems to us to have 
led the Stoics of antiquity astray : it has reappeared more 
than once in modern sects ; and it every day practically 
deludes excellent people. In reading the writings of the 
Stoics, we meet continually with what logicians call a 
petitio 'principii ; upon every occasion they recommend 
strength of soul ; but when we press them with questions 
upon the definition of the sovereign good, upon the purpose 
of the efforts they demand of us, and of the constraint they 
impose upon us, still it is to strength of soul that they refer 
us, as if we fought for the pleasure of fighting, and that 
we ourselves might be witnesses of this tournament. The 
same observations might be made about the virtues of Sparta 
and Rome, which are so much recommended to our admira- 
tion. They are a serious, laborious, and sometimes cruel gym- 
nastic struggle, but often without any real object. In several 
of these pretended heroes, we seek in vain for successors to 
Hercules and Theseus, the avengers of the oppressed, and 
'destroyers of monsters ; we find only rivals of Milo, display- 
ing their vigor in Olympic games. The same might be 
said, in some respects, of certain anchorites, if the motives 
of their austerity were not out of the sphere of human mo- 
rality. But, in the eyes of the world and of superficial men, 
^hese indolent exercises of an internal power, and these. 



ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 131 

aimless sacrifices, appear wonderful, and are estimated, not 
from their real merit, but from the surprise they excite ; 
being praised, not as things good in themselves, but as 
extraordinary things ; and they are praised the more readily, 
because there is nothing in them offensive to others, and 
all that is extraordinary in them is purchased entirely at 
the expense of their authors. We here recognise the preju- 
dice, which makes men confound Law with force, and 
gives force the power of deluding the imagination of men ; 
for, in the internal government of the soul, we evidently 
mistake what is merely the blind action of a force, for the 
rational employment of the authority over himself, which 
has been imparted to man. 

If we wish to perceive, by a manifest proof, that the 
merit of sacrifices, of courage, and even of patience, is 
necessarily relative, we must observe whether the wicked 
themselves are not capable of braving danger and support- 
ing pain without trembling ; and whether all the passions 
have not their appropriate sacrifices. What should we say 
of a man, who mutilated one of his limbs, and sacrificed hi» 
life, for the sole purpose of exercising the power he has over 
himself; or of him, who should throw his patrimony into the 
sea, to enjoy his own disinterestedness ? 

No ; — man is not destined thus to become his own sport ; 
to fill in his own presence the deplorable office, which the 
gladiators filled before the Roman people, by diverting 
himself with a useless and bloody struggle. There are 
certain privations, which, without having an actual and 
immediate advantage, may serve as a preparatory exercise, 
to teach us to endure, with less suflfering, those which will 
one day come unexpectedly ; and, it is a foresight of prudence, 
as well as the counsel of virtue, to keep up, by this kind of 
exercise, the moral energy, which will sooner or later ex- 
perience so many rough trials. But here ends the real 
merit of voluntary sacrifice, and, as soon as it passes these 
limits, becoming useless, it may, at the same time, become 



132 SELF-EDUCATION. 

fatal. Indeed there are exertions which exhaust, as well as 
some which strengthen. We have not such an abundance 
of moral energy as to be permitted to lavish it unnecessarily. 
That which we spend in surperfluous efforts, we shall want 
for really profitable actions. Aftei getting fatigued during 
peace, we shall find ourselves unable to fight in the presence 
of the enemy. Do we not see men, who have carried aus- 
terity to the last excess, more incapable of restraining them- 
selves on difficult occasions, and more implacable in anger 
and revenge, than others ? And if their lips touch by 
chance the cup of pleasure, do they not grow intoxicated 
with a single draught? 

Far from following the ways of virtue, it is wandering 
from them inevitably, to get out of nature's path ; for it is 
baffling the designs of Providence. Nature calls for no 
fruitless efforts, and to no destruction which does not con- 
duce to a reproduction. Good actions, like fine thoughts, 
must come forth, as it were, spontaneously : they are pro- 
duced less easily under habits of constraint. In a prolong- 
ed torture, virtue loses something of that simplicity, confi- 
dence, and serenity, which render the practice of excel- 
lence easy and delightful. It seems to belie its promises, 
and become an enemy to itself Thus a mind constantly 
occupied with interrogating, analysing, and regulating 
itself, ends by losing ease and fruitfulness. 

The soul must be free, that it may take its moral flight, 
and that virtue may be what it ought to be, great, active, 
and generous. There is a naturalness in the productions 
of the soul, as in those of the intellect, which preserves 
their freshness, life, and grace, and which is lost in the too 
prolonged watching and criticizing of one's self True 
virtue is spontaneous and ingenuous. When desiring to be 
made up of artificial merits, we corrupt the gifts of Provi- 
dence, which it would have been better to improve. 

The power, which is given to man over himself, is, in 
reality, a real protection, like all lawful authority. It ought 



ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 133 

then to be benevolent, and mild, and sometimes even indul- 
gent. Certainly, the moral man must not be his own idol ; 
but it is not requisite that he should therefore be his own 
enemy ; and he is not allowed to be his own tyrant. All 
caprice, vexation, and violence towards himself are forbid- 
den. They would be truly unjust ; for he receives his own 
happiness as a deposit ; he is charged to preserve it with 
care ; he answers for it to his Creator ; and a blind and 
aimless austerity not only baffles this beneficent intention 
by depriving its victim of a portion of happiness, but intro- 
duces into man's internal communion with himself some- 
thing inexpressibly sad, unquiet, and gloomy. It becomes 
a troublesome and vexatious guest within his bosom. He 
regards himself with a fearful, ferocious eye, threatening 
and fearing himself perpetually ; flying from and pursuing 
himself without relaxation. 

It is especially in the exercise of self-control, that we are 
more particularly exposed to let the inward satisfaction of 
having done well be corrupted by a secret mixture of vanity. 
In the use of this power, as of every other, there is some 
thing which flatters and seduces us. We boast of having 
been able to execute a difficult thing ; we enjoy being 
strong; we are secretly exalted with our own triumph, and 
think we delight in the accomplishment of duty. And we 
give ourselves up securely to these dangerous pleasures. 
The Stoics were not exempt, perhaps, from this secret pride ; 
it appears more than once in their language, and in the 
heroism which they affected. But when we observe closely 
these martyrs of excellence, we find they are mere wrestlers, 
who contend for the meed of opinion. Proud of the victory 
which they obtain every day, they can ill help feeling 
contempt for those who have not the same courage. They 
cease to be indulgent, and thus lightly esteem the efforts 
attempted, and the obstacles met with, by those who have 
not performed such difficult things. 

12 



134 SELF-EDUCATION. 

When we impose endless sacrifices upon ourselves at 
pleasure, we are easily inclined not to feel the value of 
those which other men make, and of which, perhaps, we 
are the occasion. Accustomed to abuse the power we have 
over ourselves, we become imperious and exacting towards 
others. At length we become less accessible to the emo- 
tions of pity, habituated as we are to have no pity upon our- 
selves. 

Deprived of inward repose, we involuntarily disturb those 
around us. In this state of restraint to which we condemn 
ourselves, we cannot feel that self-forgetfulness which con- 
stitutes the charm of social intercourse. The sweet rela- 
tions of friendship and domestic life are all affected by the 
internal uneasiness we feel. The heart isolates and shuts 
itself up involuntarily. Besides, the excess of austerity 
rarely fails to render us unmerciful. Bat of all the abuses 
of self-government, let us especially guard against this, 
which may so lead us astray as to make us sacrifice innocent 
affections. Such a sacrifice would be odious to virtue and 
injurious to it; for it would deprive it of one of its most 
powerful auxiliaries. There are guilty as well as useless 
sacrifices ; and such are those which would war against the 
faculties of our mind and heart. These gifts have been put 
in our keeping, and their cultivation and perfection are 
also among our first duties. But we do not at first perceive, 
and experience alone discovers to us, that every wrong use 
of pov/er over self, even when it seems to be only made up 
of indifferent sacrifices, may, by being prolonged, indirectly 
dry up the source of our faculties, weakening our sensibili- 
ties, and even our reason. It may also, on other occasions, 
destroy the natural equilibrium of our moral and intellectual 
powers. These excesses have often excited the imagination 
to the most impetuous flights, and favored all its illusions 
and wanderings. They have roused ardent passions, the 
transports of which an exalted imagination increases. It 
might be said, that the powers placed in man by nature, 



ERRORS IN SELF-GOVERNMENT. 135 

not being able to follow their course, when thus tyrannical- 
ly opposed, seek to come to light in some unexpected 
way, with a violence equal to the constraint which they 
have undergone ; and yet, by means of this very self-impos- 
ed austerity, men are more easily deluded about the errors 
which they suffer to lead them astray : they cannot believe 
that they would endure such a servitude, when, in another 
respect, they exercise such tyranny over themselves. They 
resemble those despots, who, while oppressing others at the 
instigation of their caprices, secretly obey some favorite. 

But of all the disadvantages to which the abuse of Self- 
government gives rise, that is the most deplorable, which 
causes doubts about virtue itself, and inspires aversion to 
it, making it misunderstood. It is comparatively, a slight 
thing to deprive ourselves of the enjoyment of the peace, 
which should reward the practice of excellence ; for in this, 
we only suffer a personal injury : but to bring discredit in 
the world, on that holy cause, against which are already 
•raised so many prejudices and obstacles; to drive back from 
the paths of improvement so many weak beings, who are 
already terrified at the contemplation of the sacrifices 
strictly necessary ; to offer virtue to man, with a savage and 
gloomy countenance ; to expose it to be confounded with 
sterility of heart or harshness of will ; to conceal from view 
the rewards it promises ; to separate it from happiness ; 
these are almost crimes, — for they are an immense injury 
to the human race. 

Let us then cease to extol the singularities of that false 
heroism, which brings forth prodigies fruitless in real ex- 
cellence. Let us rather leave them, buried in the obscurity 
of the solitude in which they so justly delight. They are 
not the instructions which men want. Let us show them 
examples, which they can follow and love to imitate. 



SECTION III. 

THE HARMONY BETWEEN THE LOVE OF EXCELLENCE 
AND SELF-GOVERNMENT. 



CHAPTER I. 



CONSISTENT CHARACTERS. 



The Love of Excellence and Self-government are each, 
separately, a principle of harmony. The former produces 
harmony in the sentiments, the latter in the actions ; one 
gives unity to motives, the other brings the faculties under 
a controlling guidance. But a new harmony results from 
the union of these two great powers, without which the Love 
of Excellence is but a vain speculation, and Self-control a 
blind force ; and without which the same disorder would 
arise within us, which is manifested in society, when the 
laws have no ministers to bring about their execution, or 
when the agents of power are not subjected to the direction^ 
of Law. When in alliance, the Love of Excellence be-» 
comes practical action, and Self-control is animated with a 
holy inspiration; a result resembling the union of theory 
and practice in the arts. Unfortunately a great number of 
men have not sufficient strength to do justice to their mo-> 
tives, or not enough motives for their strength. Thus in-* 
tentions remain fruitless, and strength is wasted ; the latter 
being often converted into poison, and good intentions, by 
going astray, committing the more ravages, because they 
are good. 

Consistent characters are those, in which harmony 
reigns. Perhaps those of this rank are more frequent than 
we think, especially in the middling and obscure Qonditions, 



CONSISTENT CHARACTERS. 137 

Irregularities strike the eye more than what is in order. 
The superficial observer only remarks eminences ; but by 
the side of each projection, there are cavities, and it is often 
by our inequalities that we are distinguished. 

But we may not apply to morality the false ideas, which 
we imbibe concerning the value of worldly things. Accus- 
tomed to estimate objects by their rarity and their extraor- 
dinariness, and by the exertions they have cost, rather than 
by their real merit, we sometimes pass a like judgment upon 
characters. Yet a consistent character, although accom- 
panying ordinary faculties, is much nearer perfection, than 
an inconsistent one, united with the most brilliant qualities. 
This proposition may shock our prejudices, but it is 
approved by true philosophy. It should however be well 
understood, that we refer to the natural limits of faculties, 
not to mediocrity which is the result of our own neglect. 
Besides, do we not sometimes mistake, and give the name 
of mediocrity to what is only modest ? The beauty of the 
moral edifice not only consists in the grandeur of the di- 
mensions, but also, and especially, in the wisdom of the 
proportions. In a consistent character, every thing conspires 
at once to the same end; all the qualities aid and sustain 
each other ; no one baffles the desire and destination of 
nature. It is like a piece of mechanism, whose machinery 
is exactly adjusted, in which no movement is lost, and the 
friction is imperceptible. Persons of this character attain 
happiness most easily. They will enjoy without celebrating, 
and even without defining their enjoyment, just as we breathe 
a free, sweet, and pure air. They alone are secure. With 
them every thing is in its place, and each action answers to 
its end. And what is happiness, but this secret sense of a 
general and constant internal harmony? We say, internal ; 
for, if all within harmonizes, we shall be at peace with what 
is without ; since nothing external can affect us immedi- 
ately, and outward things act upon us only through the 
influence we grant them. Consistent characters are those, 
12* 



138 SELF-EDUCATION. 

which in social intercourse are easy, sure, and gentle : we 
do not clash with them, and they are never wanting, nor 
contradictory to themselves ; their stability excites confi- 
dence ; their frankness induces self-surrendering openness ; 
we feel at ease Math them ; we are not offended with their 
superiority ; doubtless we admire them less, but we also 
hardly dream of feeling envious of them ; and they seem 
almost to disarm malignity, by^the peaceful influence of their 
presence. 

When the paths of progress seem arduous, it is because 
we seek them in a different direction from that marked out 
by Providence. If we knew how to be consistent, many 
things which appear difficult would become easy, and many 
things which seem bitter would be sweet. Consistent char- 
acters are to morality what great minds are to science. We 
often see men who aspire to success in study, yet blindly 
prejudiced against all general views. They aspire to be- 
come entirely pefAiliar men, in order to borrow the denomi- 
nation, which they themselves sometimes give to the kind 
of merit they are ambitious to acquire. This direction of 
the mind may have had its advantages in the infancy of 
human knowledge and industry ; it was necessary, then, 
to divide, in order to begin well. Hence, the use of corpora- 
tions and wardenships in trades ; and peculiar minds greatly 
resemble the ingenious vv^orkmen, formed by the manage- 
ment of the wardenships. But, in proportion as the human 
mind advances, the reciprocal relations of different kinds 
of knowledge are brought to light; the assistance which 
the arts lend to one another is discovered, and henceforth 
skill consists in following them out in their various relations 
to each other. All great discoveries are placed at the points 
of coincidence between different series of ideas or observa- 
tions. Great minds always seize upon analogies ; they 
discover similitude in diversity. Genius dwells in the focus 
where all rays meet. Peculiar men always become small, 
if any circumstance displaces them, even if it is to elevate 



CONSISTENT CHARACTERS. 139 

them. Look, for example, at geometricians, when they are 
brought to judge of moral science ; and at mere lawyers, 
discoursing of administration and politics. But this, which 
we observe in regard to the progress of the intellect, is much 
more applicable to moral progress ; in the latter, men are 
not divided and subdivided into professions and casts ; their 
vocation is common ; it is complete for each one : the wide 
paths, which are suitable for the intellect in the highest 
periods of its developement, are also those into which the 
soul ought to enter at the commencement of its moral exist- 
ence. In this, virtue fulfils the functions which genius does 
in science ; it should take possession of those qualities of 
the character which are central, because those exert a gen- 
eral influence over all the habits. 

Oddity and singularity are signs of an incomplete charac- 
ter, the elements of which are not in harmony either with 
themselves, or with the conditions in which the individual 
finds himself placed. Originality can very well be united 
with a consistent character, since it consists in drawing 
from ourselves the motives of our conduct and the elements 
of our opinions; but it degenerates into oddity, if we do not 
sustain this character, that is, if, in pretending to govern 
ourselves, we are governed, not by reason, but by caprice. 
Our characteristics are generally our faults. And this 
happens because we do not know how to convert our char- 
acteristics into virtues, as we ought to do. We let them 
follow the course which they have received from the natural 
disposition, without submitting them to a rational cultiva- 
tion, or assigning them their rules and limits ; boasting of 
the excellence of the quality in itself, and easily excusing 
its going astray. The qualities, of which we should be 
proud, are those which we owe less to nature than to our 
own efforts. 

Great passions always take something from our most 
estimable qualities; which they exaggerate and corrupt, in 
order to use ; and we become more violent and inflexible by 



140 SELF-EDUCATION. 

this means, as well as more vain. It is for want of knowing 
how to govern ourselves, how to direct the cultivation of our 
faculties to that common end, which is assigned them by 
the highest law, that we neglect to preserve that just equi- 
librium between the different qualities, which would retain 
each in its sphere ; and that every thing is abandoned to 
itself Thus, some are exalted and wasted, and others 
remain in a lethargic state ; and we find ourselves filled 
with rebel powers, when we come to take the management 
of our minds into our own hands. Many men seem false, 
because they deceive us and disappoint our expectations ; 
and yet they are only inconsistent and unfaithful to them- 
selves ; they are, as it were, divided in halves ; half given 
up to self-interest, and half to self-sacrifice, and they obey 
each by turns. 

Men's characters are rendered inconsistent by an internal 
a.nd hidden limit, which arrests the energy of the will and 
the course of the sentiments ; so that they cannot finish 
what they have undertaken, nor hold to what they have prom- 
ised. If we observe narrowly, we shall find that this limit 
is generally an obstacle secretly raised by self-love. How 
can this limit be made to disappear? Must we not give 
unity to the character, and then establish a general principle 
of conduct, and obtain power to be faithful to it 1 Now this is 
exactly what is given by the union of the Love of Excellence 
with Self-government. A sincere and profound attachment 
to virtue banishes all discord from life. Virtue has of itself 
a character of generality and constancy : the better it is felt 
and understood, the more evident is this character. It 
forms an entire and unbroken system, which embraces all 
the affections of the soul and all the resolutions of life. It 
admits of no distinction or division in the application of its 
fundamental truths. Morality is one in its spirit, although 
varied in its application : all duties are brethren, although 
they are arranged in different ranks. A partial and restricted 
virtue is not founded upon true principles. The farther we 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 141 

go back to the origin of the notions of excellence, the more 
clearly we shall perceive the close consanguinity which 
exists between them ; the better we shall know how to gov- 
ern ourselves ; and the more we shall experience the aid, 
which duties lend each other. A life inspired by the Love 
of Excellence and regulated by reason, is like a beautiful 
poem, in which every thing conspires to the principal unity^ 
and in which the details, harmonizing with each other, are 
distributed in a just gradation. It resembles a grand geo- 
metrical demonstration, in which the corollaries flow from 
one another, and are all derived from the same fundamental 
theorem. In such characters all discords disappear, be- 
cause chance does not influence the principle of action. 

Three principal harmonies result from a just agreement 
between the moral powers. Love of Excellence, and Self- 
government : greatness of soul, dignity of character, and 
internal peace. The first is brought out in actions ; the 
second also appears externally ; but the last reigns in the 
depth of our hearts. Let us try to find how they each result 
from this two-fold principle. 



CHAPTER II. 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 



There is something so admirable in greatness of soul, 
that it cannot be contemplated without deep emotion. It 
excites an ardent emulation within us ; it reveals to us some- 
thing about the faculties of our nature, which we had not 
perhaps suspected, but which we recognise to be a gift of 
the human race. We feel a just pride in belonging to that 
common country, where noble characters are produced ; and, 
in the joy of this discovery, we almost feel confident that 



142 SELF-EDUCATION. 

we are capable of imitating them. Greatness of soul unites 
in itself the two noblest traits which belong to the character 
of man ; it borrows from Love of Excellence all that is gen- 
erous, and from Self-government all that is energetic. It 
points out the end to which our nature arrives ; shows us 
the whole extent of our liberty ; and teaches us of what we 
are capable. 

We can define this noble phenomenon, which dilFuses sd 
pure a light over the earth, only so far as we have clearly 
considered, and determined upon, the two moral powers 
whose effects we are here considering, the two-fold influence 
of which, greatness of soul unites in itself, in a very high 
degree and in perfect harmony. 

Certain passions, by developing extraordinary powers in 
the soul, may render us capable of executing great things f 
but in the results, which follow, how gigantic sover they 
may be, we shall never find the impress of greatness of souL 
We shall always discover something narrow in the outlines, 
exaggerated in the execution, or servile in the impulse : 
there will be a secret mixture of personal interest, and a cer- 
tain extravagance. They are a kind of unnatural and htiel 
crisis. Yet we may remark, that great things can only be 
produced by those passions which are cherished by some 
erring affection, or moral power, Never could sensuality 
left to itself, or selfishness in its naked sterility, even, ii^ 
their most violent excesses, succeed in imitating any thing 
great. 

Powerful effects are not enough to characterize great 
actions ; for a machine can produce great effects. Great 
actions are those which produce their effects by the energy 
ef generous sentiments. 

We may habitually cherish noble sentiments and lofty 
thoughts, and yet not attain greatness of soul. It not only 
demands, that such sentiments be put in action, but that 
i'here be some boldness, and a certain degree of courage, in 
the action which gives them impulse. It supposes an ia-^ 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 14S 

siffht into the future ; it must have a free field ; it needs 
space ; it desires danger. What immediately touches us 
is too confined ; the present is too transient ; and what is 
evident and positive leaves too little merit to the determina- 
tions of the will. 

In magnanimity you will always find the impulse and 
self-surrender of confidence ; it is faith in others ; it is 
especially faith'in virtue. We would defy a skeptic to give 
himself up to an impulse of magnanimity, if his skepticism 
extended to morality. 

Greatness of soul supposes a certain elevation in tho 
mind, and the habit of frequent and easy intercourse with 
general views, which are alone extensive. Habits of analy- 
sis, if they are too exclusive and too prolonged, subtlety of 
mind, refinement and delicacy of perception, may destroy 
the noblest sentiments by taking from them the prospects 
by which they need to be supported. A very ordinary 
mind often betrays a generous heart; but, in order to aspire 
to what it majestic, we must first conceive of majesty. 

Greatness of soul is not satisfied with an individual and 
very exclusive sentiment, in which it finds no support, and 
meets too many limits. And this is doubtless the reason 
why those men who possess it are generally less accessible 
to the passion of love ; while the passion of glory attracts 
them powerfully and would even become a stumbling-block^ 
if greatness of soul did not remain true to its principle. 
They find in glory a magnificent concert, echoing the secret 
sentiments with which they are inspired, perpetuating the ex- 
pression of them, and extending them on all sides. This 
love of glory is a happy and useful instinct of great soul's. By 
aspiring to great and brilliant actions, they naturally come 
before our eyes, to enlighten and allure us by their example, 
to instruct our age and posterity. Glory then to those, whom 
magnanimity inspires ! let it surround them like a luminous 
halo, that they may console and spread joy through the 
world by their examples ! Let them come forth as the 



144 SELF-EDUCATION. 

acknowledged flower of mankind, adorned with the richest 
coloring ! Let them be considered as the ornaments of soci- 
ety ! Let them appear like so many beacons, destined to 
awaken in all hearts the virtuous affections, and to give 
encouragement by inspiring high and lawful hopes ! 

Greatness of soul is promoted by respect, admiration, and 
a holy and pure enthusiasm ; for it looks upward, towards 
what is essentially excellent. It is the peculiarity of great 
souls to delight in the homage paid to noble actions. Far 
from being accessible to envy, they feel a secret and deep 
joy in seeing what is honorable honored. They promote, 
and call on others for the homage, which is its due, and are, 
as it were, absorbed with the triumphs of virtue. He who 
does not feel the sentiment of respect, has no idea of truly 
elevated things ; and he who is incapable of admiring what 
is great, is incapable of producing it. True enthusiam is a 
mixture of admiration and love, directed to what is good 
and beautiful : it is an active, all-conquering sentiment. 
In the arts it personifies : in morality it does more, it real- 
izes. There are some minds, so blinded by vanity, as to 
pretend to find a proof of their superiority in their inability to 
admire. There are some men, who affect to disapprove of 
an enthusiasm they know nothing of; thus transforming 
their impotence into wisdom. Narrow souls give themselves 
credit for enthusiasm when they are merely astonished ; and 
ardent imaginations think they have enthusiasm, when they 
are affected by external brilliancy. Let us beware of a 
critical spirit, and beware also of an immoderate thirst for 
success. The former will destroy, and the latter will mis- 
lead the generating principle of magnanimity. 

The great in soul always have an eminently natural char- 
acter ; they appear to perform great actions with facility, at 
least their efforts are unrestrained and easy ; and, that 
which is extraordinary to ordinary minds, is common and 
familiar to them. This is because the principles and germs 
of magnanimity are in our nature. They are stifled there. 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 145 

only when we paralyse them ourselves ; they burst forth 
when the bonds of personal interest are loosened. Besides, 
every thing is true in the views magnanimity inspires, as 
well as in the affections which promote it. It appreciates 
the intrinsic value of things ; it is filled and penetrated with 
the love of what is good. The consciousness which it 
possesses gives it a just security, and an ease and calmness 
which impart something firm, free, and finished to the action 
performed. 

In order that greatness of soul may be exercised, it is 
doubtless necessary that circumstances offer it worthy occa- 
sions ; and these occasions are rare. An opportunity for 
its display is a privilege mostly reserved to the superior con- 
ditions in society, which fortune or power have surrounded 
with their favors : this privilege, however, is too little felt. 
But there are other scenes, which, though concealed from 
spectators, are not less fit for the exercise of this great 
power. The presence of the spectator does not create, it 
only makes manifest, what is great. Yet there are many 
people, who cannot learn what is great but by the mouths 
of others, and seem unable to understand it directly! 

But, if magnanimity can only be manifested at times, still 
it must be an habitual and constant disposition of the soul. 
It cannot come by a stroke of will, and at the needful mo- 
ment only. It must preexist, impatient to act, although it 
may not understand itself clearly. In the presence of occa- 
sion or example, it comes forth spontaneously, free, and full 
of joy, like genius suddenly revealed in the presence of a 
masterpiece. It is in virtue what genius is in the arts. 

It is so true that a free and entire self-forgetfulness is one 
of the essential and characteristic traits of greatness of soul, 
that the vulgar are generally inclined to suppose it exists, 
wherever this self-forgetfulness is shown in a brilliant man- 
ner. This is the reason why it is especially recognised in 
pardon granted to an enemy, in indifference to injuries, and 
in disdain for the favors of fortune. Also, the two simplest 
13 



146 SELF-EDUCATION. 

forms of selfishness, covetousness and vanity, are more in- 
compatible with it than any thing in the world. Self, when 
it rules and brings every thing into subserviency to it, and 
even is conscious of its own exclusive pretensions, is some- 
thing so mean, so puerile ! Self-forgetfulness, however, is 
only one of the conditions; and how perfect soever it 
may be, is not enough to constitute greatness of soul. An 
absolute indifference to one's self, moreover, would not be 
elevated, even if it were possible. Self-forgetfulness must 
be a real sacrifice, though it may be accompanied with joy ; 
it must be made for worthy objects ; in a word, self-love 
must be absorbed in and conquered by a purer love. 

The great in soul have an intimate communion with each 
other, and a language peculiar to themselves. This lan- 
guage is sometimes hard to be understood by the vulgar ; 
and there are men, who are not called vulgar, who do not 
really understand it, and yet think that they have a right 
to dispute its sense and value. 

The great in soul sometimes neglect little things. It is 
quite necessary that they should let the spirit of criticism 
and envy have this consolation. 

There is a sublimity in character as well as in the produc- 
tions of the mind. It results from the two great principles, 
which constitute greatness of soul, elevated to the last de- 
gree. It consists in entire immolation to the voice of Excel- 
lence, when the voice of Excellence requires absolute immo- 
lation. This, which makes common souls tremble with 
horror and affright, is embraced with so pure and true a joy 
by the great, that it seems as if it were to them a reward, 
rather than a sacrifice. It is less for them a burthen to be 
borne, than a crown to be seized. But it does not always 
consist in giving one's life ; there are some men, who give 
their lives with levity. In some circumstances there is 
more greatness of soul in awaiting d-eath, than there would 
be in going to meet it ; there is sometimes more greatness 
in consenting to live, and especially in being resigned to 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 147 

survive, than in braving or suffering death. There is a 
sacrifice, which comprises every moment, and the whole of 
existence, which implies the renouncement of all our habits 
and inclinations, the sacrifice of our fortune, our plan of 
life, and dearest affections ; this is voluntary exile. Also, 
there are occasions, upon which we are called to brave 
opinion, the prejudices of our country, and of our age. The 
martyr of truth and virtue has more than once been touched 
by apparent ignominy ; he has had to endure the judgment, 
pronounced by vice and absurdity, and applauded by the 
vulgar. Let worldly heroes be silent and bow before such 
heroism as this. The former receive the applause of the 
world, and its glory ; but the latter only its injustice, and 
the suffrage of conscience. 

The sublime in mental productions is always relative ; it 
requires a concurrence of favorable circumstances, the 
preparation which prevents surprise, and the art which col- 
lects and concentrates the whole mind in a single and 
rapid stroke. But the sublime in character is absolute, inde- 
pendent, and permanent ; it draws every thing from with- 
in ; it has no need of the aid of art ; it is not weakened by 
multiplying itself, and loses nothing by being explained. 

The great in soul are not great because they are sepa- 
rated from the generality of men ; and if all should attain 
to this eminent dignity, it would lose none of its value. 
What elevates the soul to greatness, is loftiness of purpose, 
and the generosity of the effort necessary to attain the end 
in view. 



148 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



CHAPTER III. 



DIGNITY OP CHARACTER. 



Man, a creature of God, bears upon his brow, and still 
more in the depth of his heart, the stamp of his origin. A 
candidate for a future existence, he carries within him the 
sign of this high calling ; and, a citizen of the universe, he 
exercises in it a sort of magistracy and even priesthood. 
There is a bond of communication between the material 
and moral world ; and becoming acquainted with the first 
through science, and governing it by industry, he enters 
into the second by means of religion, virtue, and free will. 

What is dignity of character, but this very dignity of our 
natures, understood, cherished, and called forth in our 
lives ? In what does it consist, but in sustaining, by our 
sentiments and actions, the rank which Providence has 
assigned us? The great in soul should keep guard over 
this common dignity of mankind. It is a certain sign of a 
degraded and depraved character, to feel a secret desire to 
lower this dignity ; indications of which we sometimes 
perceive, among those who perhaps are at the same time 
vain, but certainly are very blind in their vanity. 

But this original nobleness is maintained and justified by 
all that we know of moral progress. And it is by becom- 
ing better, that we find out its titles. And, also, in its turn, 
the sense of this dignity helps us to become better. This, 
for example, is manifested in the influence which certain 
public solemnities, dramatic representations, and the sight 
of rewards decreed to real merit, exert over those who share 
in and are witnesses of them. The emotions which such 
spectacles cause, by awakening in all hearts a deep sense 
of the primitive nobleness of human nature, inspire in each 
a secret desire to prove it in himself^ and seem, also, to 



DIGNITY OP CHARACTER. 149 

raake him confident that he shall not fail. Under this happy 
influence, the excellent appears natural, easy, and simple. 

We continue, therefore, to observe the results, which 
spring from harmony between those two great powers, 
which lead man in moral progress. It is through Self-con- 
trol, united to the Love of Excellence, that we obtain great- 
ness of soul without pride, and modesty without meanness. 
Dignity of character in man is the token of his initiation 
into wisdom, and the seal of his consecration to excellence. 

Dignity of character is the natural attitude of virtue. — 
There is nothing noble and distinguished, even in the eyes 
of the world, which does not suppose some degree of disin- 
terestedness, as an essential condition. No bargain what- 
ever, no equal exchange between contractors, will ever 
receive this appellation : while forgetfulness of our own 
interests is ever a noble thing, and all we do for the advan- 
tage of others has dignity. There is meanness in all sordid 
motives, and what was good in itself, ceases to be honor- 
able, as soon as it is sought with a mercenary design. 
There may be some dignity in making good our rights, but 
it is only when we meet some obstacle or danger in defend- 
ing them ; or, when we claim them less on account of a 
personal feeling, than in the name of justice ; thus including 
the rights of all in the same cause. 

There is a natural dignity in purity of sentiments and 
actions, as there is always something mean in what is 
inspired by the allurement of sensual and present pleasure. 
Innocence enhances what it adorns. Its dignity is the most 
lawful of all dignity ; for it preserves untouched the deposit 
confided to the free-will of man : modesty also is a respect 
for one's self, which commands the respect of others. 

There is a natural dignity in what is true. Hence sin- 
cerity and frankness are honorable. Dissimulation and 
falsehood may be profitable ; they may be combined with 
skill ; but they are always base. This is not only because 
all artifice is a sign of weakness, it is also because artifice 



13 



150 SELF-EDUCATION. 

relinquishes one of the titles, which constitute the excellence 
of our nature. Besides, we are seldom false but from a 
calculation of selfishness. 

There is a natural dignity in every thing which expresses 
the accomplishment of a duty. The dignity, which sur- 
rounds the office of a magistrate and of a father, is not only 
derived from the authority which is confided to them, but also 
from the importance of the duties imposed upon them, and 
which we suppose fulfilled ; besides, this authority, in one 
respect, is really a great duty. Every profession, also, is 
honorable, because of the obligations it imposes upon those 
who hold it. 

All abandonment of Self-control degrades us; drunken- 
ness, for example, — which is the last degree of it. Analyse 
what renders a thing ignoble, and you will always discover 
a principle of shameful and extreme negligence. The 
familiarity which takes from dignity of character and man- 
ners, is not that which wears the condescension of kindness, 
and the simplicity of modesty, in our intercourse with infe- 
riors : it is that which supposes a want of circumspection 
and self-vigilance. 

Dignity of character involves a certain degree of severity 
in the habits of life, of reserve in relations, of sobriety in 
language, of collectedness, gravity, and seriousness in man- 
ners. All these things show, that we know how to govern 
ourselves, and that we are animated with the love of the good 
and true. This is the attitude of a man, who' lives in the 
presence of those lofty destinies, which Providence has 
assigned as beyond the confines of earth and the present life. 

Old age owes a portion of its dignity to the authority 
which experience gives ; and misfortune, to the protection 
with which Providence sourrounds it, by recommending it 
to the generous. But old age and misfortune have still 
another kind of dignity, which the former receives from the 
proximity of a great future, where are resolved the moral 
destinies of man; and the latter, from trial, which explains 



DIGNITY OF CHARACTER. 151 

and prepares us for that future. Besides, in the aged man 
we see one who has long struggled ; and in the man touched 
by adversity, one who is at the moment struggling. Both 
are consecrated by the exertion of strength of soul. 

A character loses it dignity as soon as it finds itself de- 
ceiving expectation, contradicting and belying itself Fail- 
ure is always ridiculous. 

Agitation and inquietude injure dignity of character, 
because they are a sign of weakness. We sometimes think 
we shall acquire dignity by showing ourselves powerful and 
strong ; but we are mistaken ; we must first, and at the 
same time, be good. In true dignity of character there is 
not only something imposing, but something also which 
inspires confidence. The beholder feels, that in the habit- 
ual decisions of such a character, nothing is the fruit of per- 
sonal interest, and consequently nothing can become hostile 
to him. In the merely strong man, he might fear an op- 
pressor, but in the strong and good man, he may hope for a 
protector. He sees the light of justice and truth shine in 
such a character, and it serves as a guide to him ; he finds 
the maxims established by reason, peTsonified, and therefore 
follows them without repugnance, for it is not the individual 
he follows, but the light of wisdom. The good man, in 
whose soul virtue is deeply rooted, and who is consistent, 
exercises a natural, imperceptible, and mild magistracy, 
upon the earth. We respect him without his commanding 
it, and obey him unconsciously. In his presence animosi- 
ties are softened, ambitious desires are calmed or shamed, 
the wicked turn pale, the weak are encouraged, and the 
frivolous are first astonished and then begin to reflect. The 
power he exercises over others is the more real, because he 
does not seek to exercise it. He does not intrude on us ; 
but we go to him. We speak of him little, but we involun- 
tarily draw near to him ; we lean upon him ; we consult 
him in silence ; we feel ourselves better for contemplating 
and honoring him ; we seek his esteem, and become more 



152 SELF-EDtCATION. 

estimable that we may obtain it. This dignity is the work 
of him who is clothed with it, and belongs to him exclu- 
sively. But we often seek to obtain the like advantages at 
less expense ; we are eager to seize, in external circum- 
stances, all that may bring us the means of an apparent 
elevation. We find, however, in that natural and confused 
instinct which leads us to exalt and aggrandize ourselves, 
that there is no indication of that sacred vocation, which 
calls us to perfection : splendor stands for dignity, extrava- 
gance for power, a shadow or a reflection for reality. Per- 
sonal interest, disguised in different ways, corrupts the 
source of legitimate dignity. It attempts to invoke true 
merit, but only for the purpose of placing merit in its train, 
and of enjoying the homage which is its due. Thus arise 
pride, vanity, and self-love, as so many different ways of 
turning either the homage of other men, or our own appro- 
bation, to the profit of personal interest. 

Pride glories in what it possesses, and in every thing 
which has the character of power. It cares little for the 
moral character of this power, or the nature of its effects, 
provided it be a force. It even dares to glory in Excel- 
lence, but it is only as a serviceable influence ; for it is in 
itself that it delights, and chooses to delight, exclusively. 
It is calm and meditative, because it lives on, and is suffi- 
cient for, its own contemplation. It is fearless and frank, 
because it thinks itself supported upon true zeal and just 
foundations; it has faith in itself, because it is imperious, 
intolerant, and exclusive. It is nothing else than confident, 
domineering personal feeling, satisfied with the conviction 
it has of its own superiority. — Vanity, on the other hand, 
seeks to find in the consideration of other men, what it does 
not succeed in finding in itself; it wants attention, and 
desires admiration, or rather it desires astonishment; for 
it does not care that this admiration should be cherished by 
esteem ; it is satisfied with having spectators, and with 
captivating them. It is taken up with appearing, not with 



DIGNITY OF CHARACTER. 



153 



being ; it even delights in singularity, for singularity aston- 
ishes and makes a show ; it displays itself outwardly ; it 
wishes to be seen ; it will even draw advantage from its 
faults, errors, and excesses, if it can surround them with any 
brilliancy ; it fears censure less than it fears to be forgotten. 
By endeavouring to persuade others of its merits, it con- 
cludes by persuading itself of them. Vanity is personal feel- 
ing, seeking an external mirror, in which it may contemplate 
its idol ; but with the hope of finding it of more vast dimen- 
sions, and brilliant with more intense refulgence. 

Self-love, (taking this term in the restricted sense which 
we gave it some time since,) is more subtle, more delicate, 
more refined in it purpose, more ingenious in its means, 
and less ingenuous in its expressions and acknowledgments. 
It is not satisfied with being seen, it wishes to be favorably 
judged ; it aspires to success more than to renown ; it fears 
disapprobation, but ridicule still more. It had rather please 
than shine. It wishes for consideration, esteem, and even 
good will. It even seeks its nourishment in the friendly 
intercourse of friendship, and penetrates into the most 
secret and intimate relations. It winds through and pene- 
trates the soul, and even torments it in its relations with 
itself; it reproaches it for imperfections, which ^re rather 
limits of nature than real faults ; it is more afflicted by the 
absence of qualities than of virtues ; it especially suffers for 
the want of talent and skill. This is exacting, susceptible, 
and restless personal feeling. 

We see men who are full of pride, who seem exempt from 
vanity : they have such a consciousness of what they are, 
that they hardly care for the opinion we have of them ; and 
they have so much disdain for other men, that this opinion 
has little value in their eyes. We see some men free from 
pride and vanity, and yet governed by self-love. Less rep- 
rehensible than if they were proud and vain, they are, 
however, more unfortunate. They are insensible to the 
advantages of fortune and honors ; but they are affected by 



154 SELF-EDUCATION. 

the least thing which touches upon their character in the 
world's opinion. They are alarmed at every thing, and are 
always ready to admit interpretations which are unfavorable 
to themselves. They are in a continual state of observa- 
tion and defence, rather than tormented by the desires of 
conqnest. Self-love is like an insect, which may attach 
itself to the most beautiful plants, and wither them. When 
discontented with ourselves, it contributes to our discon- 
tent much more than we suspect ; for self-love has a won- 
derful art of being disguised in virtue. It might be said that 
pride gives to itself a sort of dignity, that vanity borrows it, 
and that self-love steals it ; but all three are wanting in true 
dignity, because they seek it where it cannot be found. 

There is grandeur, and an imposing grandeur, in the 
numerous and public testimonies, which society renders to 
merit, virtue, and talent. It is a noble thing to see homage 
sincerely rendered to the excellent upon earth ; it honors 
humanity, and improves it, in that it awakens in all hearts 
the purest of sympathies, and through this sympathy gives 
a new impulse to generous sentiments. Next to religious 
solemnities, it is the most magnificent festival which can be, 
celebrated upon the earth ; and most nations have assciated 
the hon<*rs rendered to the memory of great men, with 
religious solemnities. There is certainly elevation and 
nobleness in the ambition which aspires to gain such lau- 
jels, and we cannot disparage an order of motives, which 
produces such great things. Who would wish to deprive 
society of the illustrious, or to disenchant human nature 
of the love of glory ? But this great testimony is only acquir- 
ed by him who deserves it, and not by him upon whom 
it may have fallen by chance or mistake : it is not the per- 
son who is praised, but the attribute which he is supposed to 
possess. It is only acquired by the man, who is inspir- 
ed with worthy motives ; it is not the external action merely, 
that is applauded, but its principle. The acclamation of 
the crowd is but a vain noise and senseless tumult, if there 



DIGNITY OF CHARACTER. 155 

be not approbation in it, or if it be not just in itself. Let 
us therefore clearly understand the pure love of glory, with 
the conditions it supposes. It has a language which explains 
and a sign which represents it. It is an authentic, solemn, 
brilliant, and perpetual confirmation of internal approbation ; 
such as might have been deserved, however, in silence. 
Let us seek true celebrity by means of what is worthy of 
being celebrated. Let us feel indifferent whether we receive 
this tribute of praises. Perhaps then we shall strive for it 
less ardently, and become still more worthy of it. Let the 
love of glory, in the scale of moral progress, be the presen- 
timent of a rank much superior to glory. Let it be a light 
to reveal to us, and to make us esteem, what is worthy of 
homage. Let it be a noble instinct, which may lead us to 
seek especially the approbation of our own conscience. 

There is a lawful sense of character, which consists in 
making the character of man and the dignity of our nature 
respected in ourselves : as members of society, it is more 
than each one's right, it is a duty, not to suffer it to 
be outraged in our persons. We perceive how much this 
differs from arrogance ; for there is nothing personal in 
it, nothing which centres upon the individual. There is 
also a just loftiness of virtue, which resists injustice and 
calumny, which rests upon the inward consciousness of 
pure intentions, and feels its superiority over the power by 
which it is oppressed ; which triumphs in the midst of trial, 
and takes pleasure in its obscurity. This consists in being 
able to come forth fearlessly and without disguise, and looks 
disdainfully upon gross interest ; it is the companion of 
truth and liberty, and procures the satisfaction of feeling 
that we have been able to govern ourselves ; it is becoming 
and necessary to virtue, in the presence of the vain pomps 
which follow in the train of arrogance and frivolity ; but 
it is a modest, serene, indulgent, and gentle sentiment. 

Modesty adorns virtue, as bashfulness ornaments beauty ; 
it harmonizes with a just sense of character, as moderation 



156 SELF-EDUCATION. 

harmonizes with justice. It heightens dignity of character, 
as simplicity enhances greatness. It adds to merit the same 
charms which candor adds to goodness of heart. What is 
modesty ? Is it not a sense of excellence so deep and true, 
that the observance of duty appears a natural thing ? Is it 
not so sincere a desire for what is excellent, that what is 
wanting is much more perceptible, than what is already 
obtained ? Is it not so pure a love for what is good, that 
it even forgets the reward reserved for merit in the appro- 
bation of others ? 



CHAPTER IV. 



INWARD PEACE. 



'* Nature," says the disciple of Aristotle, '^abhors a 
vacuum." We may well say so of the human heart. Most 
men, in a blind desire of agitation, form only a negative 
idea of the peace of the heart. They fear it as a state of 
privation, and, under pretext of avoiding ennui, seek 
trouble. Would they but once try to experience peace, how 
much more just would be the idea conceived of it. They 
would perceive that it is not silence, but harmony ; not 
inaction, but equilibrium ; not sleep, but serenity ; not 
annihilation, but health of soul. It is a calmness full of 
life, tempering all suffering, redoubling the value of all 
enjoyments, and reanimating all our strength. 

The tranquillity of soul of the sages of antiquity, answers 
but imperfectly to what we intend by inward peace. Tran- 
quillity of soul consists essentially in the absence of disquiet 
and trouble. Inward peace supposes something more ; it 
supposes the presence of a restoring principle. Inward 
peace is a harmony of the two great moral powers; tran- 



INWARD PEACE. 157 

quillity of soul is the fruit of Self-government alone. The 
latter, therefore, fulfilling one of the conditions, which are 
united in inward peace, prepares for its commencement, 
being a state of security ; but inward peace is a state of 
satisfaction. The Love of Excellence diffuses into it all 
its sweetness. The tranquil soul is a vase, that is destined 
to contain perfumes ; but it is little to possess the vase, if it 
is empty. The heart where inward peace reigns is filled 
with the Love of Excellence, and the more full it is, the 
more profound is the peace enjoyed. 

Is there not something dry and unfruitful in the tranquil- 
lity of soul of the ancient philosophers? It seems to have 
rested on a fiction, contradicted by observation and experi- 
ence, and which the moral nature itself rejects. Seneca 
and Epictetus sometimes sadden, and even terrify us, by the 
images they give us of this false repose, and sometimes they 
make us revolt from it, by demanding of us the sacrifice of 
the sweetest and most sacred aflfections. But inward peace 
takes love into its bosom, and becomes a sanctuary for it : 
it therefore admits all just and honorable feelings. Inward 
peace results from the faithful accomplishment of the voca- 
tion, which has been traced out for us by nature ; it cannot, 
therefore, require us to contradict the purposes of nature. 
This peace is not a total exemption from suffering, for 
there are many legitimate sufierings and solicitudes of 
the heart ; it harmonizes with suffering and solicitude ; 
for nothing, which is lawful and true, takes away from the 
state of the soul, which is itself a sort of concert formed by 
justice and truth. There is suffering therefore, but it is 
borne with firmness, and accepted with resignation. Some- 
times indeed the peace becomes more exquisite ; for suffer- 
ing has secret but real relations with the accomplishment of 
our destiny. Nothing, which belongs to the genuine order 
of Providence, can disagree with internal order; tears may 
flow, but they are not weakness ; they are a tribute to na- 
ture, and they solace us, because they are so. There is in 
14 



158 SELF-EDUCATION. 

this peace something healing, which secretly and insensibly 
soothes the wounds of the soul and even the sufferings of the 
body. The wise man, in this happy state of mind, is moved 
without agitation, and rests without ennui. He enjoys what 
falls to his lot, and supports the privations imposed upon him. 
His sight is obscured by no cloud, he is fatigued by no 
murmuring, alarmed by no phantoms ; nothing agitates the 
depths of his heart. He does easily what is prescribed to 
him ; nothing surprises him, or finds him off his guard, for 
he walks in the way traced out for him by nature. He 
enjoys fully the favor of the Creator, recognising a blessing 
in the trials which are laid upon him, and finding in all 
things sources of satisfaction, as far as they are necessary 
to his condition, because he sees himself in the place which 
was assigned him in the designs of the Supreme Disposer. 

In such a state of mind, all the faculties have a free and 
more vigorous spring. Inward peace is, to the faculties of 
man, like the dewy morning to the plants of the earth. 
Light is diffused in the intellect, ideas are distinguished 
from each other, and are easily classed. We interrogate 
and answer ourselves without constraint; we penetrate 
easily into the depths of the soul ; v/e render an account of 
what we think and feel ; we know better what we wish ; 
our will is more decided and frank. How easy then does 
virtue appear to us ! how delightful its contemplations • 
what recompense is anticipated in its practice ; how pleased 
we feel with ourselves and others ! Our intercourse with 
others partakes of the serenity which reigns within ; good 
will becomes natural ; we claim less, we forgive more ; for 
we have less need of others, and are less vulnerable. Be- 
sides, the calmness within ourselves is spread over those 
around us, as it were, unconsciously. The peaceful man 
interposes, as a sort of mediator, in the midst of hatred and 
animosities. If, as a beneficent messenger, he appears 
in the midst of a discontented, disquieted, agitated crowd, 
even his presence brings confidence and hope, producing 



INWARD PEACE. 159 

effects similar to the chords of the melodies which soothe 
the storms of passion. So, after the tempest, the mysterious 
bow appears, which is drawn upon the heavens, but rests 
upon the earth. Inward peace is the expression of moral 
order ; as beauty in an edifice proves the regularity of its 
proportions. It is the emanation of virtue itself, and there- 
fore, when beaming on the brow of the good, it becomes a 
sort of eloquent language, which penetrates to the depths of 
the heart. Do we not owe to it, in an especial manner, the 
pleasure we take in the contemplation of nature ; and, on 
the other hand, is it not because the contemplation of nature 
disposes us to recover inward peace, that it does us so much 
good ? The image of peace, constantly reproduced in those 
varied scenes, those graceful pictures, becomes living and 
sensible; answering to us, and applauding us, if we are in 
harmony with ourselves, or bringing us back to this harmony 
if we have been unfaithful to it. As nature only smiles upon 
the good, or those who are sincere in their return to excel- 
lence, she only receives innocence or repentance. The 
beauties of nature are the mirror of a virtuous soul. 

Inward peace is a pledge of the constancy and persever- 
ance of resolutions and sentiments ; it is a conservative and 
tutelary principle. It is only when we are in agitation that 
we are changeable. The more we taste this peace, the 
more we are attached to it. Unlike the pleasures of sense 
and selfishness, it grows by enjoyment. It is an animated, 
living pleasure, which, far from throwing us into stupor, 
awakens all the moral energies within us. Under its influ- 
ence, the soul, feeling itself unshackled, raises itself from 
the miseries which weigh it down, free, confident, and dig- 
nified ; gazing with joy upon the prospect of great things, 
and aspiring to undertake them. 

If we ask men, whose examples excite our most just 
admiration, they will tell us, that it was in moments of 
peaceful self-collectedness, that they conceived those vast 
designs and generous resolutions, by which they have done 
honor to the human race. 



160 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Peace of soul beams ingenuously from the brow of those 
favorites of virtue, who, entirely faithful to the law of excel- 
lence, have preserved untouched the deposit of moral virgin- 
ity. It rests, majestically serene, upon the brow of old age, 
when it is crowned by the remembrance of the good actions 
which have filled up the course of a long life. In the former 
it is a calmness, which includes a fruitful activity ; in the 
latter it is a merited repose, but a repose full of vigor. It 
confers upon the first a sweet, pure dignity ; it restores to 
the second a new youth. Perfect peace is one of the attri- 
butes with which we love to clothe those superior intelli- 
gences, those angelic natures, which seem to us to form an 
intermediate link between the Divinity and man, and which 
occupy the highest summits of moral nature. 

Whatever shocks our sight in external nature, whatever 
carries disorder into sensible phenomena, whatever disturbs 
the state of living, organized beings, always arises from 
some element being displaced, or from some irregular 
movement. It is the same in all internal agitation ; there is 
some want of regularity, some secret contradiction between 
our conduct and the tendency marked out for us. If,, 
therefore, we remark, that all the obstacles which prevent 
inward peace, arise, in some way or other, from some 
requisition of selfishness, we shall recognise that selfishness. 
is a real and fundamental irregularity in human nature. 
Under its three principal and most decided forms, avarice,, 
ambition, and vanity, it becomes the focus of various solici- 
tudes, all irreconcilable with repose of heart. How remark- 
able ! we are never less at ease with ourselves, than when 
we are exclusively self-seekers. It is placing ourselves in 
the service of a master the most severe, and the most diffi-- 
cult to satisfy. 

There is a melancholy, which may ally itself with peace 
of soul. It is that which is almost inevitably connected 
with sensibility, and like sensibility it is placed as the safe- 
guard of virtue. It is approved by virtue, aijd consented to 



INWARD PEACE. 161 

by reason ; and it is a melancholy not unnatural to those 
who see human life in a true light. How can they turn 
away their eyes from so many miseries which afflict human- 
ity; from so many errors, from so many crimes? How can 
they but groan for the evils, which weigh upon those they 
love ? How can they shut out the never-ceasing groan of 
suffering humanity 1 Must they not every day also deplore 
their own weakness ? Even the zeal which inflames them 
for the holy cause of virtue is frequently and painfully mis- 
taken. This melancholy, however, has some charms ; it is 
not a principle of agitation ; it has nothing gloomy in it ; 
it does not dry up the soul ; on the contrary, it has a soften- 
ing effect. As it is a reasonable sadness, it produces no 
disorder ; and by it we even become better. 

There is a melancholy, which essentially influences our 
imaginations. It is a disposition, which results from tem- 
perament, from the state of health, from the dispositions of 
the organs, and from the reactions of these entirely external 
circumstances upon the ordinary impressions which we 
receive from objects. This kind of melancholy, which has 
its momentary and transient crises, may menace peace of 
heart, unless the reason knows how to defend itself from its 
attacks ; but it is only a trial of patience. As soon as we 
know its origin and nature, we support it, as we support a 
purely physical evil. 

There are, however, three more serious kinds of melan- 
choly, which attack inward peace in its essential principle. 
We may refer to these three dispositions almost all the 
causes which poison human life. They all spring from 
ardent desires disappointed in their attempts : from the 
desire of loving, the desire of acting, or the desire of appear- 
ing. 

The melancholy, which arises from the desire of loving, 
torments the sensitive and timid, and has the most expan- 
sive and tender character. It is perhaps that which is 
most profoundly painful of all. But fortunately, it is that, 
14* 



162 SELF-EtJUCATIOx^. 

which is most easily remedied. If, wandering in the world, 
unknown, despised, and solitary, we cannot obtain a return 
of those affections, which aspire to expand themselves ; if 
every thing remains deaf to our voice, still this thirst for 
love, which we feel within us, can yet, by purifying itself 
more, find a solace. It can turn every thing wholly to the 
profit of virtue, by receiving its aid ; for virtue will teach 
us how to love without recompense and with entire generos- 
ity ; how to fix love upon high objects, that will console us 
for not being able to meet what we seek upon earth. Wis- 
dom will also guard us from the aberrations of a blind and 
irregular sensibility. 

The melancholy, which arises from desire of acting, tor- 
ments those ardent souls, which have a consciousness of 
their strength ; it has something impatient, indefinite, and 
convulsive, in its approach. It is often ignorant of itself. 
It struggles against obstacles, but it easily misunderstands 
the means of triumph. It renders the situation in which 
a man is placed insupportable to him, and urges him to 
change it. If it can find the issue which it seeks, it can do 
great things ; but it may consume the faculties in their 
principle, if it is condemned to turn upon itself. This 
melancholy has also its remedies. It finds them in favora- 
ble circumstances ; in a surer resource ; in the counsel 
which wisdom gives, to bend to circumstances and reap 
advantage from them, however unfavorable they may be. It 
especially finds a remedy in the virtue which sets free from 
vain ambition, and which always offers useful careers to 
human activity. 

The melancholy, which springs from the desire of appear- 
ing, is of all others the most dry, sterile, gloomy, and unqui- 
et. It is mere slavery to opinion. The seat of this melan- 
choly is rather in self-love than in the heart ; but it spreads 
over every thing within us. Wounded self-love seeks to 
interest the heart in its cause. This kind of melancholy 
leads to nothing useful. It only needs some remedy that 



INWARD PEACE. 163 

may cure it. We must attack it in its principle, in order to 
be freed from the yoke under which this desire has placed 
us. As far as it governs, it pursues and disquiets its victim ; 
but opinion upbraids him, even for the efforts he makes to 
satisfy its claims. There is no peace for those, who are 
dependent upon it; for there is no security for them. They 
desire to be seen, and fear to be judged ; they thirst for 
praise, and run the risk of blame ; they belie themselves to 
obtain the suffrage of others : there is no asylum for them. 
They condemn themselves to remain on the stage, and to 
await the uncertain decrees of the spectators. And, when 
they obtain this much desired approbation, of what value is 
it ? What satisfaction do they gain from it, unless it has 
the sanction of conscience ? 

The ardent desire of success, also, that passion which 
intercourse with the world creates and developes, is one of 
the poisons, whose action is most fatal to the heart of man. 
Those are especially in danger of it, whose condition 
places them particularly in relation with the public. Impa- 
tient to succeed, alarmed at the least sign of disfavor, he 
whom the desire of success torments, takes umbrage at every 
thing, and especially seeks outward supports. His eye 
wanders constantly around him, scrutinizes, interrogates 
the judgment of each one, solicits applause, betrays secret 
solicitude ; but whatever efforts he makes, he never makes 
his end certain, but leaves it to be determined by chance 
and fortune. May the young man, when entering life, 
defend himself from this passion, rather let us say, this 
mania, that the contagion of example, and received ideas, 
render so overpowering. May he escape the servitude pre- 
pared for him. Let him resist, with noble firmness, the 
allurement of success ; let him live to he, not to appear. 
This is the condition of his preserving his character and 
real energy ; he must preserve to his talents that character 
of independence and originality, without which there is no 
permanent success. 



164 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Each of these different kinds of melancholy may yet have 
either of two directions, according as it inclines to the past 
or the fature ; and this direction still farther modifies their 
character. The melancholy, which is nourished by regret 
for the past, is accompanied with discouragement ; its sad- 
ness is gloomy ; it is exhausted in vain sufferings ; its cure 
is the most diihcult. The melancholy which wearies the 
future, by desires impossible to be satisfied, is something 
agitating, impetuous, indefinite ; it produces trouble with- 
out, as well as within ; it is inexperienced, consequently rash 
and dangerous. It is necessary, by a sort of exchange, to 
present the future to one kind of melancholy, and to give 
experience of the past to the other. The first demands 
consolation, the second demands a guide. 

We also see men, who have exhausted the cup of pleas- 
ure, and who are satiated with life, complain of a kind of 
melancholy ; but their sadness is only the nausea of lassitude 
and disgust ; it has no more of melancholy, than lethargy 
has of peace. There is always something in melancholy, 
which announces that the powers have deviated from their 
course, or have wandered, or, perhaps, that they are super- 
abundant, and out of proportion with the situation of the 
individual ; but that, if brought back to their true tendency, 
and proper career, they might become fruitful. It denotes 
that there is a sap, which hardly circulates, and which even 
flows back, because it finds some part of the channel ob- 
structed, where it ought to flow. This is why melancholy 
is interesting and touching. Virtue feels for it a sort of 
attraction; it is pleased to approach it; it comprehends 
that it can aid this malady of the soul, and that, in restoring 
it to health, it will perhaps draw from it a principle of new- 
vigor. 



MORALITY LEADS TO INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS. 169 

of Others, but it does not deliver us from those which spring 
out of personal feeling, and which are more active and 
indefatigable. Vacancy of heart is a source of agitation, 
while gentle affections and generous sentiments refresh, 
compose, and strengthen the understanding ; giving birth to 
the serene thoughts that are the emanation of purity. The 
labor of reflection is also facilitated by internal order, as 
symmetry favors our observation of visible objects. Virtue 
fears no investigation. It has no motives but what it may 
confess and love to render an account of And we would 
ask, in passing, whether our want of internal order has not 
injured the progress of the philosophical sciences, and occa- 
sioned false directions of these sciences in countries and 
ages, where habits have been tainted by a general corrup- 
tion. It has not been observed with sufficient attention, that 
absolute knowledge, (as we must call it by way of distinc- 
tion,) requires a peculiar instrument, the thorough study of 
our nature, and that this study is, in its turn, intimately 
connected with the practice of the highest virtues. Per- 
haps there have been so few great philosophers, because 
'here have been very few eminently virtuous men among 

hose who have cultivated philosophy. Socrates is acknowl- 
3dged as the restorer of philosophy in ancient times. And 
,vhy ? He taught scarcely any thing, except that a knowl- 

dge of ourselves is the common and sole source of science 
ind morality. But in this single principle he comprised all 

he principles of discovery, which were to guide his disci- 
ples into the regions of wisdom. The excellent alone can 
penetrate the meaning of the celebrated oracle of Delphi. 

2. Vanity may have its motives for depreciating in the 
world the merit which belongs to rectitude of judgment : 
nothing is easier than to be distinguished by renouncing it. 
There are a thousand ways open, by the side of the only 
oath which leads to truth ; and we may appear original in 

ach of these ways, by merely being unfaithful to right 

?ason. To produce an effect, it is enough to unite two 
15 



170 SELF-EDUCATION. 

ideas which are astonished at being together ; the paradox 
will owe its success to its novelty and boldness. Just minds 
seem colorless ; and simple reason monotonous. Good 
sense is so vulgar a thing, that we see whole sects of phi- 
losophers profess to disdain it. Yet what is philosophy, if 
it be not a grand commentary upon the lessons of good 
sense ? Is it not good sense, which, by spreading from con- 
sequences to consequences, and strengthening these con- 
nexions, regulates the understanding securely, in the lofti- 
est speculations ? Good sense is in judgment what natural- 
ness is in style. But what is the best guardian of good 
sense, if it be not virtue ? What is the best security of 
mental rectitude, if not uprightness of heart ? 

Since Aristotle, there have been thousands of treatises on. 
logic, wanting in nothing which concerns the decomposi- 
tion of argument ; every case is foreseen, every rule is writ- 
ten, and the operations of the mind are converted into 
infallible formulas; in these treatises, the art of logic has 
become what arithmetical operations are in Pascal's ma- 
chine ; it seems as if nothing were required but to put the 
instrument in play. But is truth indebted to these for any 
real progress 1 In speculative science their aid has not 
been very effectual ; the most useful directions, those which 
include the management of the mind, have been most ne- 
glected. In moral science, and in practical application, the 
aid has been still less efficacious ; for though we know how 
to prove a proposition in forms, and even to demonstrate a 
paradox, if we have not learned to love truth, an essential 
instrument is wanting to its attainment. 

There is another logic, which is less known, more neces- 
sary, and which we could use more easily than we do that 
of the schools : this teaches us to think correctly by teach- 
ing us to govern ourselves well. The art of directing the 
operations of our mind, is only an exertion of self-control ; 
and to preserve this control over our understanding, we 
must obtain it over the soul itself, which is the focus of all 
the human faculties. 



MORALITY LEADS TO INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS. 171 

There are innocent errors doubtless, but the world is not 
most indulgent to the errors which are most innocent. And 
often when we declare ourselves in error, we do it in order 
to justify a fault which we have committed. Ignorance 
also, which we so often take for an excuse, is, on the con- 
trary, the very chief and most serious of our faults, when, 
as is so often the case, we have had the means of instructing 
ourselves, and have neglected to use them. Thus does it 
happen, then, that intolerance is united with prejudice 
against knowledge. Truly enlightened men are the more 
indulgent : they know all that it costs to acquire truth, and 
how easy it is to stray from it, even when honestly seeking 
it. 

Nothing is more delicate than the relations which exist 
between the judgment and will; they often escape our 
watchfulness, and baffle our honest intentions; we think 
we follow our judgment, when we yield to the guidance of 
our will. The office of guide belongs, it is true, to the 
judgment ; yet the operations of the mind being actions, and 
every action having its motives, it happens, that the nature 
of the motives decides upon the course which the under- 
standing may take, and that we often believe at last what 
we wish to believe. 

Among the causes of our errors, there are two in particu- 
lar, which are peculiarly influenced by this partiality of the 
judge : they are those which arise from imperfect views, 
and those which the illusions of the imagination produce : 
complex truths, which generally constitute the object of our 
studies, require to be comprehended in their wholeness ; 
but a mind, prejudiced by passion, considers objects only 
in the light in which this passion places them ; and the 
prevailing passion, giving new vividness to the deceitful 
images which borrow the appearance of realities, and de- 
lighting in seeing proportions exaggerated and the distance 
of objects diminished, tinges them with the hues which 
either its fears or its desires may suggest. Moreover, the 



172 SELF-EDUCATION. 

more nearly certain opinions affect our interests, the surer 
they are to tally with these interests : there is nothing in 
the world less certain than what is suited to affect us most : 
there is nothing upon which we are less agreed, than what 
is connected with individual affections. Men only meet 
upon the ground of axioms indifferent in themselves ; and 
although mathematical truths owe their certainty to the 
evidence of their principles and deductions, they also owe 
not a little to their not being the subject of passion. Men 
have, it is true, been divided even respecting mathematical 
truths, when any passions have been deeply engaged in 
their cause. We see multitudes obstinately resolved to 
expect results in the relative chances of lottery and play, 
which most exact calculations prove to be impossible. And 
in other sciences, do we not see the most abstract theorems 
sometimes become the sport and instruments of the pas- 
sions, while facts themselves are misconstrued, as soon as 
there is a motive for bespeaking falsehood? The advan- 
tage, which geometry owes to its peculiar nature, virtue 
would communicate to all other branches of knowledge ; and, 
after we had become impartial, we should find it would be 
no longer necessary, that propositions should be indifferent 
in themselves. What is better adapted to enlarge the per- 
ceptions than generous affections? What means are more 
efficacious to prevent the wanderings of the imagination, 
than the habit of restraining ourselves ? And since virtue 
consists in general views, and is guided by the light of 
justice, and keeps strict watch over our inward being, by 
the repression of every disorderly movement of our faculties, 
what can so effectually prevent fantastic delusion ? 

There are certain passions which belong more particu- 
larly to the mind, and often exert the most perceptible influ- 
ence over its operations. Penetrating into certain studies, 
in which any power less subtle could not find support, they 
succeed in seducing human reason. But the heart, although 
secretly, is always the accomplice of these intellectual 



MORALITY LEADS TO INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS. 177 

only admit facts, or calculations, and only need the most 
rigorous processes, the habits of order formed in the prac- 
tice of virtue, favor the spirit of method ; the spirit of inven- 
tion is seconded by taste for serious meditations ; persever- 
ance in labor is kept up by patience, and by the impulse of 
a disinterested zeal for what is of general utility. The art 
of conceiving great plans finds support in those useful exer- 
cises which direct our thoughts to the vast relations of moral 
ideas, rendering them familiar to us, and teaching us to see, 
in universal maxims, individual and close applications. 
The relations of general to particular views, of theories to 
facts, and rules to practice, is no where better shown than 
in morality. AH the creations of the mind are but combi- 
nations. Now selfishness, of all dissolvents, is the most 
active ; and love is the most powerful of all principles of 
union and amalgamation. A vigorous thought is the union 
of ideas which were extremely remote from one another in 
the order of acquisition, but which are united by analogy. 
Now in the ideas which concern human affairs, love and 
virtue have a magic power in revealing secret affinities, 
since they are full of an attracting force and an exquisite 
sense of the fitness of things. 

There is at least one superiority which selfishness claims 
with assurance, and which the opinion of the world hardly 
refuses it : it is skill in what is called business. It would 
not be astonishing if selfishness were the best inspiration of 
the calculations which have respect to personal interest, 
because in the pursuit of this interest it has most persever- 
ance, and because the choice of means being a matter of 
indifference to it, it can pursue short paths which a delicate 
morality forbids. Virtue in these respects confesses the 
disadvantages of its condition, accepts, and is honored by 
them ; but it possesses compensations which belong to it 
exclusively. 

Wise views and honorable sentiments are likewise guides 
for conduct ; the esteem of others, and the consciousness 



178 SELF-EDUCATION. 

of our own esteem, give to us firmness and assurance in 
those affairs which suppose intercourse with other men. 
We exert over other men a truer and more lasting, although 
perhaps a slower influence, by the confidence we inspire in 
them, than by all the combinations of art. " Honest hearts," 
we say, ''are often deceived; they know little of men and 
of the world ; they hope too easily, and judge too favora- 
bly ! " But are not insensible and selfish hearts also de- 
ceived, in their way, in their judgments ? Their errors are 
only on the other side : they are errors of injustice. Every 
opinion which we seek to form of other men can only be a 
presumption, or probability : therefore the most prudent and 
best intended opinion will necessarily prove false sometimes, 
by the natural play of circumstances in probable things; 
whence it follows, that in order to be equitable in the judg- 
ments we form on this subject, we must expose ourselves to 
be deceived sometimes, and to find our judgments faulty ; 
whence it also follows, that he who never thought too favor- 
ably of his fellow-creatures, has probably judged them habit- 
ually with too much severity ; he who was never deceived 
in absolving other men, has frequently been so in condemn- 
ing them wrongfully. This advantage is worthy of selfish- 
ness, and let it enjoy and triumph in it ! As for us, we 
consent to bear the blame of sometimes thinking our breth- 
ren better than they are, rather than that of judging them 
habitually worse than they are. 

Where are the elements of that great and difficult art of 
knowing the human heart ! Have we any instrument what- 
ever which penetrates directly into the secret of the springs 
by which others are moved ? Whence do we draw the 
inductions which reveal to us an order of phenomena which 
cannot be directly perceived ? The spirit of observation 
must here be seconded by inward reflection : it is in our- 
selves that we should study others, because it is in ourselves 
that we find the solution of problems which the experience 
of life and the world presents ; and this is why we commonly 



MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 179 

judge other men like ourselves. To have mingled with the 
world, to have noticed it in every direction, is not to have 
really known it and judged it, if we have not first learned ta 
judge ourselves. 



CHAPTER VI. 



HOW MAN IS LEAD TO RELIGION BY THE DEVELOPEMENT OP THE? 
MORAL POWERS. 

As religious sentiments lead to virtue, so virtue leads 
back to religion ; and this less familiar consideration is 
advantageous to the cause of religion. It is doubtless a 
lawful triumph for religion, to see how much man improves 
under its influence ; but it is also a noble testimony in its 
favor that pure and honest hearts naturally tend towards it. 

In sound logic, moral truths are very necessary premises 
of religious truths ; while, on the other hand, moral senti- 
ments, call upon religious sentiments to purify and bring 
them to perfection. Under this double relation, morality 
then is a true religious initiation. As civilization bears 
witness to the existence of a political, so morality proves 
that of a Divine legislator. What the former certifies 
in society, the latter attests in the sanctuary of nature. 
The political legislator has not created public and private 
morality; he has found it preexisting; he rests upon it, 
and it serves him as an instrument. But who inspired, 
whence came this genius of morality? Who traced that 
primitive code which has served as an archetype and pat- 
tern for the particular codes of every nation? If the order 
which is manifested in the outward universe, shows plainly 
to all men the agency of Supreme Providence, does not the 
order of the phenomena of moral nature indicate an author? 



180 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Moral order, considered as the universal legislation of man- 
kind, gives beauty to the general system of the universe, 
completes its harmony^ and quickens it with a new and sub- 
lime life. 

Is it not a circumstance worthy of attention, that so many 
imperious inclinations have been placed in the heart of man, 
and so many circumstances around him, to conduct him to 
that state of society, in which alone his faculties can be 
fully developed ? Plants obtain air, light, and soil, necessa- 
ry for their growth : the animal who must seek his nourish- 
ment, receives the instinct necessary to find it, and organs 
suitable to obtain and secure it. Man, who depends for 
every thing on uniting with his fellow-beings, and on the 
combination of forces, receives affections, thought, and lan- 
guage, — that is, means of communication with his fellow- 
beings : besides, he is born more weak and dependent than 
other animals, while at the same time he alone is born capa- 
ble of progress. The social principle explains this apparent 
contradiction, which disappears in society. Now society, 
in its turn, calls upon and requires morality, as a condition 
essential to its existence, and as the chief means of its pro- 
gress. In the relation of all these things to each other, we 
see, then, a plan and design, of which human nature is the 
theatre, the Supreme Legislator the architect, and virtue 
the fundamental condition. In this plan, the same wisdom 
which called man to the social state for the education of his 
faculties, instituted the code of moral duties to serve as a 
bond to the social state ; and this great thought has presid- 
ed in all ages over the destinies of the human race. 

Is there any thing better adapted to show divine wisdom 
and goodness, than this harmony between what is moral 
and what is really useful, useful to all, and to each ; - — than 
this dispensation, by virtue of which the sacrifice required 
of the individual, is found to be for the general interest, — 
and that other dispensation, which makes the individual 
find, in another and better form, what duty leads him to 
sacrifice for the advantage of others ? 



MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 181 

Thus, the moral code is a vast and beneficent foresight 
extending over mankind ; it is a tutelary protection institut- 
ed for our weakness ; it resembles the recommendations of 
paternal tenderness. Does it not then reveal the solicitude 
of an invisible and Supreme Father ? Providence does not 
rely upon our prudence alone, to provide for our happi- 
ness ; and, just as it has given instinct to the animal, from 
interest for his preservation, it has given to man the sublime 
instinct of virtue, from interest for his felicity. In bestow- 
ing free will and intellect upon his creature, the Creator has 
given him a guide in the form of duty. 

Thus morality is an eloquent witness of the divine nature, 
and the more deeply virtue is felt, the better Providence is 
understood. Moreover, if moral truths were not indisputa- 
bly acknowledged as self-evident, it would become impossible 
for reason to demonstrate the attributes of God. No dem- 
onstration of this kind has ever been attempted, except by 
setting out from principles of natural morality, as from so 
many indisputable axioms. If there were not an essential 
difference between good and evil, how could reason form 
any idea whatever of a being of sovereign goodness ? By 
what right should we attach notions of justice, truth, wis- 
dom, and excellence, to the divine essence, if these attri- 
butes were not already acknowledged as real perfections, and 
if there were not consequently a principle within us deter- 
mining their moral character ? No revelation could make 
up for this ; for the certainty of all revelation depends, be- 
forehand, upon the supposition that the Infinite Being can- 
not deceive ; consequently, upon the moral principle, that 
falsehood is an imperfection and a stain. 

The belief in a future beyond the tomb, is doubtless 
founded upon powerful inferences drawn from the ordinary 
course of nature ; for nothing perishes in the elements which 
compose nature : they only change their form, by passing 
into various combinations. Now reason and analogy 
equally show that the principle of individuality, in an intel- 
16 



182 SELF-EDUCATION. 

ligent and sensible being, is necessarily one, and cannot 
suffer dissolution, since it is elementary. But these infer- 
ences would still leave a thick veil over the destinies which 
compose the important futurity. It is reserved for moral 
truths to raise this veil, by showing us, on the one hand, an 
equitable judge in the Supreme Dispenser ; and, on the 
other, merit and demerit in human actions. Excellence is 
not excellence because it is rewarded, and evil evil because 
it is punished. It is just the contrary ; as the terms of re- 
ward and punishment declare. Virtue then is something 
real, and worthy of great price, or we could not apply to it 
the consequences deduced from the notion of an infinite 
justice and of a supreme judge, associated with that of a 
sovereign remunerator. 

Thus virtue bears witness to immortality. And the more 
deeply virtue is felt, the better the hopes of the great future 
are understood. We find in these hopes our proper destiny, 
explaining our earthly condition. A spectator, placed at 
the foot of a vast and regular edifice, cannot embrace all 
the parts in one glance ; but those which are presented to 
his eye, give him a conception of the design of the archi- 
tect ; he completes in his mind what he has not yet been 
able to perceive ; he prolongs the lines, and sees the point 
where they must unite ; he penetrates beforehand into the 
secret depths. Such is the inference which morality au- 
thorizes us to form, about the as yet invisible portion of our 
destiny. Thus virtue upon earth is the peristyle of a great 
future. It is so 'regularly, so harmoniously, and so wisely 
concerted, that it makes us foresee exactly how its plan is 
accomplished and consummated. The whole moral nature 
is a grand prelude, a magnificent promise. It is a relation 
whose first terms only we hold. It is a triangle whose base 
we occupy, and the summit of which is as yet veiled in a 
cloud. This new progression, of which the present and 
terrestrial man occupies the first steps, seems to be exhibit- 
ed, already, as an image or sketch, on the bosom of human 



MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 183 

nature, by means of the scale of moral superiorities. So 
far as the good man is superior to the wicked, so far he feels 
that there is something much superior to himself. This 
presentiment of a better world, increases with the degree of 
his progress. Who has not, in certain moments of his life, 
obtained a foreknowledge of it ? Why then should we 
always cast our eyes downward, and never raise them 
towards the summits which tower above our weak nature 1 
I have seen a family assembled in a domestic oratory ; the 
mother offering to God those to whom she gave existence ; 
the father blessing his children ; youthful hearts rendering 
thanks to the Heavenly Parent, whose tutelary providence 
they well understood, accustomed as they were to meet it in 
the interpreters it has chosen here below. O how beautiful 
is the religion, which can heighten the loveliness of a family 
picture ! I have seen an indiscriminate multitude united in a 
temple ; every soul was concentrated, every mind mingled 
in the same thought ; all hearts were blended in song. The 
poor man, by the side of the rich, without being jealous, had 
forgotten his miseries ; the rich man had learned his own 
indigence ; brotherly love, which seems to banish all social 
distinctions in the world, awoke free and pure : all had 
obtained intelligence of their destiny ; all prepared for it, 
rejoicing together; all advanced with an equal step. How 
human nature is ennobled, when in this attitude ! how many 
dark mysteries are cleared away ! how much discord is 
hushed ! The whole earth seems to pride itself in the dig- 
nity which the most noble of mortal creatures has just ac- 
quired : the whole system of the universe is explained. 

Of all the kinds of worship, that which has obtained the 
most general and lasting success among mankind, and the 
only one which has owed its success entirely to free and 
individual conviction, and which has triumphed by the mere 
force of this conviction, over all the resistance of prejudice 
and force, is that which has the rare privilege of fully satis- 
fying the wishes and wants of morality. It is through this 



184 SELF-EDUCATION. 

character, which so eminently distinguishes it, that its first 
defenders made their most eloquent vindications ; they well 
knew that by calling virtue as a witness, she would not de- 
ceive their expectations. Its first conquests, also, were 
either among good and simple men who had resisted the 
corruption of the age, or among the sages who had deeply 
meditated upon the eternal laws of morality, &uch as Justin, 
Theophilus, Athenagoras, and Clement of Alexandria. 
What a magnificent homage rendered to Christianity, that 
it has been able to cause desertion from the school of 
Plato ! * 

In the general system of beings, every thing proceeds in a 
continued gradation, as every thing tends to extreme simplic- 
ity, whatever may be the wonderful complication of means. 
It is an immense pyramid, the regularity of which we discov- 
er more clearly, the more minutely we examine the details. 
At the lowest degree of the scale lie inanimate and unor- 
ganized substances : organization is successively produced 
and manifested, which soon receives the breath of life, feel- 
ing being at first but a sensation, and action but simple 
mobility. With morality and intelligence commences a new 
world, which crowns the preceding. This is the atmosphere 
into which man enters, but it only commences with him. 
Would the scale be suddenly interrupted? Would the 
progression stop at the very point where our view grows 
faint 1 Would all that is preeminent in the whole of the 
system be excluded from the common law 1 Would the 
plan remain incomplete, where it became most important? 
Alas ! it would have been better to have left it unfinished in 
inferior species. Nature could have dispensed with insects 
and reptiles ; but not with higher degrees of intellect and 
goodness. 

* All the Fathers of the church have agreed to present moral truths as 
the first truths of Christianity ; and to seek the most briUiant proofs of 
Christianity in its conformity with a pure natural morality. 



MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 185 

Yes, man is an intermediate link in the chain of beings. 
As he sees what is at his feet, so he has a presentiment of 
what is above him. All that is most elevated in humanity, 
moral and intellectual perfection, is exactly what approaches 
most nearly to a superior nature, and what receives from it 
the most direct influences. 

Were this not so, what would mean that secret but insa- 
tiable emotion of our souls, which incessantly directs towards 
a higher perfection all those sighs, which constantly call for 
a better state, and all those glances, turned upward, which 
are the expectation of the accomplishment of a great mys- 
tery ; what would mean that idea of infinity, which becomes 
the most cruel poison if it is not a just and glorious hope; 
that tendency to higher states ; those desires, which call 
upon all that is capable of elevating us ; — that inward sen- 
timent, which declares that we are the neophytes of a better 
life ; — that natural dignity and pride, which is so unjustifia- 
ble, when we consider only what we really are; — those 
pure and warm affections, which would otherwise have so 
transient an object; — that faculty of loving, which Avould 
only find such imperfect and limited objects ; and that 
virtue, so true in all which we can control by experience, 
and which would be baffled in its dearest interests in what 
we cannot yet verify 1 What would earth be, bereft of 
God ? What would humanity be, disinherited of immortal 
life ? O does not all morality invoke and proclaim, with a 
unanimous voice, that relation of man with his Author, of 
the present with the future, which alone solves all the prob- 
lems of existence? 

Religion, doubtless, is a sigh of weakness; but it is, 
above all, a wish and want of virtue, which alone nourishes 
those noble instincts which religion is to satisfy. Virtue 
thrills at the sight of religion, with the same joys as a son feels 
when he flies into the arms of his mother. And what voice 
would be raised within men to answer to the Creator's voice, 
if not that of conscience ? What powers would greet and 
16* 



186 SELF-EDUCATION. 

receive religion, when presenting itself upon earth, and 
would bring to it the reverence of men, if not those moral 
powers by which humanity is animated, elevated, and di- 
rected 1 What principle could germinate religious truths, 
in a soul deprived of the sense of what is just and good? 
What intelligible language could piety address to a heart 
deaf to virtue 1 

Of what use is it to seek laboriously, whether or not in 
some corner of the globe some ignorant colony may be found, 
which, sunk into stupidity by the want of the chief necessa- 
ries of life, has only confused ideas of the Supreme Bene- 
factor, and the worship due to him ? What is the impor- 
tance we attach to the vague narrations of travellers ? Yes, 
religious ideas are enlarged and developed with civilization, 
because they can only spring up with moral habits ; and 
this is what proves their affinity with moral sentiment. 
They acquire grandeur and truth in proportion to the purity 
and energy of this sentiment. Of what use is it to accumu- 
late so many wretched examples of blind or cruel supersti- 
tions, which have sullied the worship of God upon earth ? 
It is true that man will carry into his worship his passions 
and his errors ; he necessarily corrupts, by adopting religion. 
But it is no longer the worship of the divine nature, it is 
profanation ; and nothing proves, better than this, how nat- 
ural a preparation are purity of heart and innocence of life, 
for true religious sentiment. Let us seek for more instruc- 
tive facts in the aspirations of mankind. The experience 
of a good man is that which I consult, and upon which I 
rest. Religious sentiment in him is, as it were, but the 
continuation and consequence of those sentiments which 
already fill his soul, taking a wider range. He will be re- 
ligious, for he deserves to be so. Whatever there is in him 
pure, laudable, and generous, will be satisfied. He has 
thirsted for justice ; and the streams of an eternal, infinite, 
universal justice will flow before him, and all the wrongs of 
the earth will be repaired. He has delighted in the emotion 



MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 187 

of gratitude ; he will discover the Author of all blessings. 
An ideal has wandered in his thoughts ; he will find it real- 
ized. He has placed his happiness in devotedness; he 
will be able to consecrate all the faculties of his being to a 
boundless love, and to make a tribute to God himself, of the 
good he does to other men. 

By the practice of excellence, then, the virtuous man is 
already the neophyte of religion : he desires it, he calls for 
it ; he is prepared to understand it : he makes ready a 
temple for it within himself: and what temple is more wor- 
thy of it than the heart of the good man ? He will not be 
false to its teachings ; he will not prevent its august charac- 
ter ; he will not corrupt it by the mixture of impure passions. 
Religion will not be to him an instrument, but an end. He 
will profess it, not to display, but to enjoy it ; he will enjoy 
it, not as a vain allegory which amuses his imagination, but 
as a profound truth which fills his heart ; not as a peculiar 
privilege which flatters his vanity, but as the patrimony of 
all mankind ; not as a distinction which insulates him, but 
as a bond which unites him more closely to his brethren. 
He will not seek in it the right of condemning others, but 
the duty of judging himself more severely; he will not seek 
in it a means of encouraging himself in his errors, of dis- 
pensing with active obligations, but a light which may 
guard him from erring, a power to triumph over obstacles, 
an encouragement to do better. In a word, he will enter 
into the true spirit of religion, because he will be inspired 
by the uprightness of his heart. 

Intellectual progress contributes also to the developement 
of a truly religious spirit. For it must not be forgotten 
that intellectual progress depends much less upon extensive 
acquirements, than upon that harmony of the faculties, 
which is the health of the understanding. Now, religious 
truths present themselves naturally to a good mind, as a 
good mind is required to understand them. Providence 
has willed that these truths should be founded upon good 



188 SELF-EDUCATION. 

sense ; * and it ought to be so, since they are the inheritance 
of all men. These inferences of common sense are enrich- 
ed and strengthened by judicious learning ; although they 
may grow weak with increase of knowledge, if the mind 
contract vicious habits. They share this destiny and these 
dangers with all moral and philosophical truths. From the 
salutary influence which they exert over intellectual pro- 
gress, vv^isdom and virtue carry a new tribute to religion. 

What are those superficial observations which present 
philosophy to us as hostile to religious doctrines ? Whence 
has been taken a supposition so evidently contradicted by 
the nature of things? Is it enough that some writers, in the 
name of philosophy, have attacked some of these doctrines? 
Has there been no writer, then, v\^ho, in the name of relig- 
ion, has attempted to justify superstition or fanaticism? 
Let us leave this observation of to-day, and recur to the 
language of history ! Observe in all countries and ages the 
sacred band of genuine sages, proclaiming with unanimous 
testimony the harmony of religion and morality, as a funda- 
mental truth of reason, and the noblest and most useful 
prerogative of human nature ! These are better auxiliaries 
of religious ideas than the apologists of ignorance. 

The causes, which, by rendering man unfaithful to the 
true spirit of religion, corrupt its precious fruits, and the 
causes which alienate him from religion, by preventing him 
from rising to it, are very analogous. Man often passes, 
alternately, from one of these two states to the other ; and 
often also, with different individuals, the mere glimpse of 
one of these states, contributes to throw them into the other. 

When religious ideas are perverted, the weakness of the 
human mind and the narrow limits in which it is confined, 
must not alone be arraigned. Too often, it is true, instead 
of rising to these lofty conceptions, it endeavours to bring 

• This the author hopes to have demonstrated, in a treatise on the Ex- 
istence of God, which he intends to publish. 



MORALITY LEADS TO RELIGION. 189 

them down to itself; it sullies their purity by mingling with 
them the fantastic and coarse productions of the imagi- 
nation and senses ; it mutilates them in order to subject 
them to its own habits ; it partly veils them in the clouds of 
its ignorance. 

But the passions are generally accomplices of this profa- 
nation ; perhaps secret passions ; but because secret, their 
ravages will only be more certain. Selfishness may bring 
its ever interested and mercenary intentions into religious 
views ; seeking in religious ceremonies a prompt, direct, 
and powerful means of satisfying temporal interests and 
sensual desires. Pride may take possession of the ex- 
ternals of religion, in order to justify itself in its individ- 
ual pretensions, and to confirm itself in its disdain for oth- 
ers. Envy, associating with pride to produce sectarianism, 
may seek in religious doctrines, arms for lamentable com- 
bats, and exercise itself in animosities and revenge. Weak- 
ness of character also tends to corrupt these sublime consid- 
erations. It will find in them only a source of terror ; it 
will reap only dejection, and perhaps despair, from that 
noble communion in which man was to find a new life and 
renewal of strength. 

Four different and principal causes conduce generally to 
irreligion. 

First, skepticism of mind. — But skepticism, so far as it 
is a result of the reasoning faculties, is much more rare than 
we think. Absolute doubt cannot constitute itself into a 
doctrine, without falling into an evident contradiction. 
Generally, skepticism is not a system, though it has the 
form of one, but a malady of the mind. It is the infirmity 
of an intellect that has more subtlety than justness, more 
penetration than comprehensiveness, more cleverness than 
vigor, which, stopping at details without seizing upon the 
whole, succumbs to every objection, without comprehending 
the reach of proof. 



190 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Perhaps the most frequent and general cause of irreligion 
is the indifference which springs from frivolity, or from that 
preoccupation of the mind with material interests, which 
makes man morally puerile. It is a want of reflection, in that 
dissipated being, who has neither interrogated his destiny, 
nor consulted his conscience. It is the sleepiness of a 
heart that has not yet felt the want of great and generous 
affections. It is the consequence of slavery to sensual 
pleasures, and of the reckless dulness that accompanies all 
servitude. 

Some melancholy men do not abandon religious ideas 
from being estranged, but from being discouraged. They 
are afflicted by this great privation, as for a fast of reason 
and the heart ; they are afflicted for the human race as well 
as for themselves ; they only see through a glass darkly ; 
their imagination puts creation and themselves into mourn- 
ing ; they only see disorders, moral and physical ; they lose 
themselves in them as in a labyrinth ; they despair of the 
future and of all destiny ; they suppose in the unknown 
only evil influences ; and these sad dispositions increase 
still more in those who have been the victims of the injus- 
tice of men and the caprice of fate, and are especially devel- 
oped in those who feel inward inquietude, and are discon- 
tented with themselves. 

But religion has no mortal enemy, save immorality and 
corruption. A man must be degraded to the last degree, 
before he can be completely divorced from it. Let the 
young, therefore, keep their hearts pure, and love truth. 
Then they may interrogate their nature in good faith ; and 
they will find the voice of reason and conscience in accord-* 
MUC&f which will reveal all that it is necessary to know, 



PART II. 

THE CULTURE OF THE xMORAL POWERS. 



SECTION I. 

INWARD DISCIPLINE. 



CHAPTER I. 



SIMPLICITY. 



The Love of Excellence and the principle of Self-control 
are cultivated under two general conditions, simplicity and 
exercise : the former, a conservative principle, the latter, 
active and creative; simplicity protecting our faculties in 
their original source, exercise seconding them in their pro- 
gressive developement. 

Let us first meditate upon what is peculiar to each of 
these two general conditions. Afterwards we will proceed 
to say how they may be cultivated, according to the peculiar 
nature of each. 

We are not called upon to attain simplicity ; but only to 
remain faithful to it. Like innocence, it is to be preserv- 
ed; it cannot be recovered after it is lost. He who wishes 
to produce it, only adds one thing more to his artificial 
character; for it cannot come through imitation. Simplici- 
ty accompanies a uniform progress, because the latter con- 
sists in conformity to the intentions of nature. 



192 SELF-EDUCATION. 

In the arts, simplicity is an essential characteristic of the 
sublime and beautiful, elevating mere greatness to sublim- 
ity, and adding grace to beauty. It is truth personified and 
put into action ; rejecting all that profuseness, which retards 
effect, all that complication which renders it doubtful; 
allowing no details but those which have reference to the 
end, no expressions which are not faithful to the thought, no 
ornaments which do not spring from the subject, no attri- 
butes except those which harmonize with the nature of the 
thing. Displaying the unity of the design, it makes the in- 
tention of the artist breathe from every part ; so that the 
work, as if conceived by a single thought and executed by a 
single stroke, produces one decided impression, with which 
the spectator is immediately seized. 

This character, which genius impresses on its produc- 
tions, which is the whole secret of art, arises from simplicity 
in the manner of conceiving and feeling. Mediocrity tor- 
ments itself to multiply means, because it feels itself insuffi- 
cient. Genius is composed, because it is confident, and 
confident because it is strong. It sees the end, and the 
direct way to it; it conceives the design exactly, and em- 
braces it entirely, because it is filled with the subject. Now 
simplicity preserves the vigor of genius, by preserving its 
spontaneous freedom and native originality. Genius indeed, 
studies incessantly; not, however, to obtain the original 
conception of truth, but to be constantly penetrated by it. 
It wishes to be filled with that which is reproduced in its 
works : forgetting itself, it would become one with truth. 
Like a priest inspired by his god, in delivering its oracles, 
genius is merely an interpreter. 

The same assistance, which simplicity lends to genius in 
the arts, it lends to virtue in the moral education of man. 
It adorns a great and beautiful character, by preserving to 
the heart its virginity, to the powers their soundness, to 
motives their purity. In character, it is truth of sentiment 
and faithful action ; and in mind, truth of thought and 



SIMPLICITY. 193 

adequate expression. It is to virtue what good sense is to 
reason. 

Simplicity of manners and language is approved by the 
worldly as the natural accompaniment of what is noble and 
distinguished ; yet simplicity of character, of which this is 
the image, is rarely appreciated. This is because it is 
difficult for the worldly to understand it. How can the 
man, who only seeks the end prescribed by duty, be under- 
stood by those, who, while they act, are thinking of the 
opinion of others 1 While the worldly live for spectators, 
the simple man lives for reality ; he passes along unper- 
ceived, and rejoices in this obscurity, because by it he re- 
mains more free. But when he executes great things, nat- 
urally, and with ease, — having lived unremarked, and per- 
haps disdained, — what surprise he excites! Being com- 
pelled to admire him, men ask whence he derived such 
miraculous powers ; and they find it was from that very 
simplicity, which made him overlooked, but which allowed 
him silently to collect all the energies of his nature. While 
the worldly have wasted the gifts of nature, he has preserved 
them entire ; while they have wandered by chance, he has 
gone towards the goal assigned to him ; while they have 
grown old, he has preserved the freshness of youth ; while 
they have sunk under the chains they have imposed upon 
themselves, he has remained obedient to primitive inspira- 
tions. They had classed him with the vulgar ; but now 
they are the vulgar in comparison with him. 

How shall W9 preserve the generous sentiments, of which 
nature has placed the germ in our soul, and the Love 
of Excellence, which lays them under a common law, 
and how do this amidst the tumult which is around us, 
the events, the attention of others ; and discouraged, sub- 
ject to the exigences of opinion, diverted as we often are? 
Simplicity is the only effectual guardian. It watches at 
the entrance of the soul, and repels the invasion of every 
thing which would bring into it confusion and disorder. 
17 



194 SELF-EDUCATION. 

The Love of Excellence penetrates the simple, as light 
the transparent crystal, being exhibited in them in all its 
purity, rejoicing and happy. Virtue is so truly ours, we are 
so truly born for it, that we understand it better, the more 
entirely we remain in our proper place ; and its eloquence 
is in proportion to our ingenuousness. The ways of virtue 
are direct, its notions clear, its precepts just. The simple 
heart finds it fit nourishment, and dwells in the sentiment 
which it inspires, delivering itself up frankly, and reposing 
securely ; for all is one in virtue ; every thing is in mutual 
relation ; while every thing else but virtue is scattered, dis- 
ordered, and complicated. 

Unity in variety, that celebrated motto which contains 
thoughts so profound, the key of the highest metaphysical 
speculations among the ancient Platonists, is also the key to 
moral theories.* It is a summary of the internal life of 
man, and of his relations with the universe, as well as a 
symbol of the universe itself.t Unity expresses what is 
good, powerful, and true ; diversity, or variety, is in itself a 
source of weakness, corruption, and error ; but when sub- 
jected to unity by the power of order, perfection results. 
Variety is the cause of divergency ; it is the chaos of the 
innumerable propensities of personal interest ; it is an 
abundance of external impressions, and a medley of strange 
opinions. Unity is the end of improvement ; it is duty, 
ever immutable, and always in harmony with itself; it is 
the inward regulator. Misfortune, vice, every thing which 

* This is because the metaphysical speculations of Plato were properly a 
reflection of morality. 

t God, the supreme unity, creating the variety of beings, subjecting 
them to general laws ; the human soul, the created unity, conceiving, at 
least in part, this variety, subjecting it to the operations of the arts, with- 
out, and to the rules of morality, within, — are the two unities, placed, one 
at the summit, and the other at the lowest degree of the scale of intelli- 
gence ; answering to each other as the drop of dew answers to the star of 
day, whose light it reflects. Unity in diversity. 



SIMPLICITY^ 195 

degrades and leads the soul astray, is discord ; but peace, 
dignity, and every thing which enlightens and elevates it, 
tends to unity. Now unity is the portion of the simple ; they 
receive, understand, and keep it. Unity of views and senti- 
ments dwells in simplicity ; simplicity is the vase which 
holds the gifts of virtue. 

If we are doubtful of our own intentions, if we are deceiv- 
ed about our own views, it is because we admit a plurality 
of motives ; for ambiguity arises from complication. Sim- 
plicity is a habit of candor and honesty, which the soul 
forms in its dealings with itself. We may have mental 
reservations in self-intercourse, as well as in our intercourse 
with others ; but simplicity banishes both. There is noth- 
ing in it, which may not be confessed and seen. From this 
inward sincerity springs a naive and frank integrity of man- 
ner. Simplicity does not secretly take back a portion of 
what it gives; it does not secretly retract what it says; it 
neither has reservations nor concealments ; it is not lost in 
interpretations, and commentaries, and subtle distinctions ; 
it says ^es and no. A few words are sufficient for it ; its 
glance alone is language ; it has expressions exclusively its 
own, stamped as with an inimitable seal, and carrying cer- 
tain conviction. Its negligences are charmingly graceful, 
because they are the evidence of disinterested self-forgetful- 
ness ; they are like those waving draperies, which the hand 
of art suffers to flow like a light veil over the most beautiful 
forms. How easy and sure simplicity renders every thing! 
what liberty of motion ! what rapidity of progress ! what 
perseverance of purpose ! what cordiality in affections ! 
what self-forgetfulness in friendship! what exchanges of 
confidence ! what peaceful relations with others ! 

Simplicity neither wearies, wounds, nor irritates self- 
love ; it knows how to praise sincerely. It is the most effi- 
cacious antidote of the poison of susceptibility. It capti- 
vates without effort, because it has no design of captivating : 
it especially attracts the tender and delicate. Its severity 



196 SELF-EDUCATION. 

may indeed be the greater, since the principle of it is not 
suspected : it gives itself up, and submits fully to judgment, 
because it suffers itself to be known entirely, not avoiding 
investigation, seeking no suffrages, confessing every thing, 
even its own defects, or rather suffering them to be seen. 

Men always act with restraint, when they act as before 
others, and are preoccupied with their presence, and with 
the idea that they are looked at. Every thing is sophisticat- 
ed, as soon as men make opinion a standard ; they can no 
longer think nor act from themselves ; things lose their 
real and proper value, in order to receive one purely con- 
ventional ; precautions are to be multiplied, a multitude of 
consequences foreseen, and the most contradictory preju- 
dices indulged : they know not what to expect ; they fear 
betraying themselves continually ; they are in a state of 
perpetual observation ; they are restless ; they walk on 
burning coals ; they conceive a thousand designs, which 
cannot be maintained ; at the same time they cannot esti- 
mate the advantages they possess ; they judge themselves, 
not by merit, but by skill ; they do not seek the legitimate 
consequence, but personal success; and this seeming, 
doubtful success, depends upon the most exacting, frivolous 
judge ; and finally, though ambitious for success, they wish 
to appear indifferent to it ; and this ambition flows back to 
torment, agitate, and trouble them. Daring no longer to 
confide in their own capacity, they even lose a portion of the 
merit of their virtues ; they cannot tell, in that which they 
do, what is done from the inspiration of a pure sentiment, 
and what the mere desire of consideration inspires. Before 
abandoning themselves to a generous emotion, they look 
around to know whether they are observed, and whether 
they shall be allowed to give themselves up to it. In an act 
of devotion they think of their attitude. Thus, inspiration 
is not preserved free, natural, spontaneous, and it cannot 
shoot forth into production. 



SIMPLICITY. 197 

Simplicity of character, by freeing us from a thousand 
shackles, protects Self-government, as it protects the Love 
of Excellence, because we escape, by it, all unnataral 
situations of the heart. It is always strong, because it uses 
its powers with economy ; reserving them for the decisive 
moment, and bringing them forth in view of a clearly per- 
ceived end. It is not fatigued by the efforts, which the ne- 
cessity of acting a part requires, or by the affectation and 
over-refinement, which are the consequence of this ; it does 
not waste itself in the vain labor, which has for its object 
merely the art of appearing. It acts with the freshness of 
the morning, and enjoys all the vigor of youth. 

Simplicity procures a healthful repose for the mind and 
heart. It prevents us from being tormented, in a thousand 
ways, by vain and trifling solicitudes. It guards us from 
the excess of an inquietude, which wants to foresee, and 
to be, every thing. It accustoms us to see and to take 
things as they are. And why, after all, should we be dis- 
turbed ? What do we seek, and what should we gain, by 
so much toil? What is this fruitless torture, which we 
impose upon ourselves ? Why do we not allow ourselves to 
breathe ? The good that we pursue, is nearer to our soul 
than we think ; it would come to it, if we only consented to 
be more calm. Let us not be deceived : if we are so much 
interested in finding outward supports, it is because we feel 
our own weakness ; we run to meet the yoke, in order to 
dispense with having a will of our own, and consequently, 
with making an effort. Let us be simple, and we shall be 
more daring ; we shall rely less on foreign aid ; we shall 
have fewer difficulties to conquer ; we shall judge of our 
strength better, and exert it more calmly. 

The world imagines, that in simplicity there is a want of 
sagacity ; and laughs at what it supposes its ignorance. 
Yes, it is ignorant, but it is a happy ignorance of useless 
things. Besides, it is full of true knowledge, such as springs 
from the power of knowing one's self. If there are a mul- 
17* 



198 SELF-EDUCATION. 

titude of details, which it does not understand, yet what 
rapid and sure understanding it has of all that is noble, 
generous, and great ! 

Sometimes the virtuous are not simple, even in the practice 
of virtue. They suffer themselves to be prepossessed with 
subtle views ; they give themselves up to disquieting inves- 
tigations ; they burthen themselves with too many minute 
observances ; they torment themselves too severely with 
their own tyrannical and finical vigilance. They load 
themselves with useless chains, with gratuitous and fruitless 
duties. They suspect themselves unjustly ; they raise 
doubts, imagine interpretations of their best intentions, and 
conceive an excessive distrust of themselves. Thus the 
labor of improvement becomes uselessly complicated, and 
therefore difficult ; the way of excellence becomes entan- 
gled, and they cannot pursue it freely. Sometimes they dis- 
dain the every day virtues too much, and are tormented 
with a desire for extraordinary things. They do not com- 
prehend, that perfection can neither depend upon happy 
circumstances, nor a magnificent scene of action. 

Here we meet with a striking consideration : what raises 
the value of simplicity is, that, while it is one of the essen- 
tial and fundamental conditions of our moral education, it is 
also a condition, which is accessible to the greatest number 
of men, and to the very classes least favored. The most 
obscure situations are indebted to their obscurity for this 
advantage. 

Simplicity of tastes is to happiness, what simplicity of 
heart is to virtue. They favor each others, and both derive 
wealth from economy. 



EXERCISE AND HABITS. 199 



CHAPTER II. 

EXERCISE AND HABITS. 

All education is but a succession of exercises, rightly 
conceived, and wisely graduated. It is the nature of our 
faculties to be developed by being exercised : provided, how- 
ever, that the exercise be progressive, and never exceed 
the just measure which the actual state of our strength 
permits. 

Habits are new ways of existing ; they are acquired dis- 
positions, resulting from an exercise, or from an inaction, 
more or less prolonged. The great object of education is, 
to make us acquire, with good habits, more extensive capaci- 
ties ; but we may be seriously mistaken as to the nature of 
useful exercises, the character of habits, and the effects they 
may produce. 

Continued or frequent repetition not only acts with vari- 
ous but contrary influences, upon our physical organs, our 
active faculties, our external sensibility, and our moral 
aifections. 

For want of knowing how to distinguish these things 
clearly, great errors have been committed in school educa- 
tion ; and very serious mistakes may be made, for the same 
reason, in Self-education. We must learn to know how 
much man depends upon his organs ; and also what power 
he has over them. 

The very numerous phenomena which result from the 
repetition of exercis: s, and which, transforming the primitive 
state of man, create a new nature, may be arranged under 
some general laws. 

A sensation gradually loses its intensity by repetition, and 
at last hardly attracts attention ; the pleasure or pain, con- 
nected with it, decreasing at the same time. But, what is 



200 SELF-EDUCATION. 

singular, the sensation which ceases to be agreeable, or was 
even indifferent, becomes in some way necessary, from 
habitual repetition. We no longer enjoy it ; but we cannot 
do without it. Thus arise artificial wants ; thus pleasures 
become chains. 

Organic action, by being repeated, becomes much easier 
and more prompt. It becomes so easy, indeed, that it is 
performed of itself, and without reflection. We know the 
prodigious phenomena of this kind of habit; we see familiar 
and evident examples of it, in games of skill, and in the 
different mechanical professions. 

External movements, having become habitual through 
frequent repetition, do not wait for a signal from our will. 
They anticipate volition ; recurring even against our will, 
whenever the circumstances of place and time, with which 
they are connected, return. They become automatical, 
and are confounded with the movements that belong to the 
vital functions. Contrary movement becomes impossible, 
and, therefore, these habits may be a resistance and an ob- 
stacle to the execution of voluntary determinations. 

The imagination, so far as it is a passive faculty, is 
affected by frequent repetition like the faculty of sensation. 
Habit dims the brightness of its pictures, and gradually 
effaces their colors. But, so far as imagination is an ac- 
tive power, it receives an ever-increasing energy from fre- 
quent exercise, forming combinations more rapid and ex- 
tensive, and taking more complete possession of all those 
harmonious relations on which they are founded. 

The general phenomenon of the association of ideas is 
only a habit, contracted by an exercise which governs the 
memory. By grouping ideas, according to the fortuitous 
order of succession or simultaneousness, the relations of 
analogy between them are obscured. 

Attention, and judgment, which is in some respects only 
extended attention, are eminently free and spontaneous 
faculties, and their efforts are more vigorous and independent, 



EXERCISE AND HABITS. 201 

in proportion as they have the free and spontaneous action 
which they require. It is their office to discern the details 
of impressions and images, which from frequent repetition 
have lost part of their vividness. 

In proportion to the strength of the principle of the asso- 
ciation of ideas, attention and judgment become powerless 
and unable to separate and distinguish the links of the chain 
of thought and feeling. Then, habit takes the place of 
judgment, and governs it; and every access to the analysis 
of reflection being closed, we believe without seeing, and in 
spite of ourselves. 

That part of our aff'ections, which depends upon received 
impressions, and upon the vividness of images, is subject 
also to be weakened, progressively, by habit. 

Certain affections, by the effect of habit, cease to be pleas- 
ures, but they become wants ; and these wants become 
more imperious continually. 

Personal feeling, in proportion as it indulges itself, be- 
comes more exacting, more exclusive, more susceptible, and 
more importunate; it sees the number and violence of its 
necessities increase, without seeing the sphere of its happi- 
ness enlarge. Incorporating with itself the means it em- 
ployed in its interests, it so identifies itself with them, as 
sometimes even to prefer them to those interests themselves. 

Generosity, on the contrary, becomes more expansive and 
free by exercise ; ridding itself of all that is artificial. 
Its calmness increases with its activity, and its conscious 
happiness is rendered complete by continuity, which dead- 
ens every thing else. 

The habitual practice of duties helps reflection and the 
will. 

Those duties, which prescribe the exact and constant 
repetition of uniform actions, receive in practice a new 
confirmation from habit : it is entirely the contrary with 
those, which prescribe various and new actions. 



202 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



The Love of Excellence, an eminently free and sponta- 
neous sentiment, acquires every increasing energy from 
diligent meditation. 

The soul becomes more capable of governing itself, both 
in acting and restraining itself, in resisting and conquering, 
by a series of continued and progressive efforts. 

In these few laws is comprised the whole history of the 
passions, and of the operations of the human mind. 

First, we find in them the origin of the distinction be- 
tween the arid and the ardent passions ; the former, like 
avarice, arise from mechanical habit, which stifles all sensi- 
bility ; and the second, like love and anger, from an impulse 
of activity, which renders sensibility more energetic. We 
see why the latter continue only as long as their objects pre- 
sent themselves surrounded by new circumstances that seem 
to renew them ; and why, when these circumstances are 
wanting, the ardent passions become fixed and arid. 

Secondly, in these laws, we also find, both the origin of 
prejudice and the source of discovery : the former arises 
from the blind routine in which mechanical habits engage 
the mind; the latter, from the free action of reason, gradu- 
ally bringing forth activity. 

Thirdly, in these laws we may admire the advantages of 
morality, that inexhaustible source of knowledge and activ- 
ity, which makes the soul happy, by making it free, con- 
stantly renews its youth, and puts it in full possession of 
itself. 

Finally, we may perceive by them the essential difference 
between two kinds of education : the one founded only 
upon the outward repetition of the same processes, which, 
perhaps, give skill in practice, and inform the memory, but 
render us incapable of inventing or bringing to perfection, 
and which paralyse the combinations of the imagination, 
and the independence of the judgment : the other, on the 
contrary, going back to motives and principles, teaches us 
to do better, by rendering to ourselves an account of what 



EXERCISE AND HABITS. 203 

we do ; and to think better, by rendering to ourselves an 
account of what we know. The former is but the tradition 
of pedantry ; the latter, the art of wisdom : one makes 
automata, and trains animals ; the other, animating and 
enliorhteninor forms men. 

When reflecting upon the abovementioned phenomena, 
we observe that there are two kinds of exercises, and two 
kinds of acquired dispositions, for man. There is a me- 
chanical exercise, which consists in repeating the same acts 
after a certain model, without referring to the motives, 
which first induced them : and there is a reflective exercise, 
which grows and is nourished on the predetermining mo- 
tives. There are then passive habits, which are nothing 
but the acquired faculty of producing the same actions, even 
in the absence of a model, without the necessity of recur- 
ring to it : and there are active capacities, which cannot 
properly be called habits, by which we feel more vividly and 
see more clearly. 

These two orders of acquired dispositions appear directly 
contradictory, and, at the first glance, we judge them in- 
compatible ; the one narrows, the other enlarges ; the one 
imposes chains, the other procures liberty ; the one prevents 
reflection and will, the other gives them spring; and, what 
is most remarkable of these two modes of exercise, the one 
has principally its seat in our external organs, the other in 
the soul itself; the one is principally subject to the condi- 
tions of our temperament, the other is dependent essentially 
on our intellectual and moral faculties. Thus, the soul and 
its organs, though strictly united, depend upon two systems 
of laws evidently different. 

These two orders of acquired dispositions, moreover, if 
their natural relations are not inverted, give mutual aid : 
they are necessary to each other. The first is essentially 
conservative ; the second may attain something new. 

Study confides to the first kind of habits the results of 
acquired knowledge, to be made use of when occasion 



204 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



requires ; so that it may not be necessary constantly to go 
over the series of observations and reasonings which led to 
the knowledge. Virtue also may confide to this first order 
of habits all acquired good qualities, for future use; for it is 
not necessary to be perpetually considering the foundations 
of the duty, of which these qualities are the living expres- 
sion. 

But the advantage of habit, whether we apply it to virtue 
or to study, consists in its being a conservative principle, 
so that we may forget what is behind, and apply our activity 
to new acquisitions. Here then is the art of progress ; for 
by means of these admirable laws, man, although limited by 
his condition, becomes capable of elevating and exerting 
himself in an uninterrupted progression ; his actual attain- 
ments, making him capable of attaining more. 

Here also is a manifest proof, that progress is the natu- 
ral destination of man; for these two dispositions, evidently 
instituted for each other, are combined to give him wealth * 
the one constantly receiving as a depositary, what the other 
collects. 

But all this beautiful and wise economy will be destroy- 
ed, if we fall into either of the following errors : if an 
exercise purely mechanical usurps the functions, which, in 
moral education, belong to the reflective exercise ; or if, 
satisfied with having acquired good habits, we neglect to 
give them new life continually, through a developement of 
the active capacities. Besides, all the utility of habits is 
evidently subordinate to the primitive value of the deposit, 
the preservation of which has been confided to them. Hab- 
its, contracted by mechanical exercise which is blind in its 
nature, receive, indifferently, good or evil, truth or error. 
If, in this alternative, we have the happiness to meet the 
most favorable chance, yet we shall still not possess any but 
an unfruitful wealth ; in effect, we cannot employ a rule, 
as we cannot apply a principle, unless we understand 
its sense and spirit : — the wisest precept, the most exact 



EXERCISE AND HABITS. 205 

axiom, adopted without being comprehended, cannot be 
made to bend to a variety of circumstances, and they may 
even become instruments of mischief. 

But habits of this sort may be formed under less hap- 
py chances ; and hence, those false associations of ideas, 
which attach the notion of virtue to actions which virtue 
would disown, and of which history and life show us the 
deplorable effects. Habit gives to these associations a 
singular tenacity, and, as it takes the form of an imperious 
necessity, so they assume the aspect of duties, and we 
obey them in good faith ; also, as habit becomes more 
strong by time, so they appear more sacred. Thus our 
ideas become confused ; we do not know what belongs to 
routine, and what belongs to duty. More than one person 
has found himself embarrassed, in not being able to discern, 
in what presents itself under the image of an obligation, 
that which really results from a moral law, and that which 
is but an association of ideas formed in infancy. This ob- 
servation itself, however true in some cases, in being gen- 
eralized, has come in its turn, by another association of 
id^as not less arbitrary and erroneous, to lead astray more 
than one philosopher ; having served, in particular, as a 
pretext to sophists for contesting the reality of moral no- 
tions. 

This association of ideas is the origin of conventional 
virtues, which often take the place of the true, both by ex- 
cluding the latter directly, and by absorbing the strength, 
which they should claim. It is the secret of the artifice 
which power employs, when it wishes to convert might into 
right, producing submission by an appeal to habit, instead 
of to the sense of law. It is the source of those narrow 
views which deny general observations, and at the same 
time give an absolute character to relative and purely con- 
ditional rules. This is also one of the causes of that im- 
movable and cold fanaticism which puts on the calmness 
and dignity of reason, because in its false ideas of dutj 
18 



206 SELF-EDUCATION. 

habit has taken the place of enthusiasm. Finally, it is the 
principle of the disposition which leads us to condemn those, 
who do otherwise than we are accustomed to do ; and ren- 
ders us more intolerant, in proportion as we become less 
good and less wise. 

Doubtless, when it has become a habit, knowledge ceases^ 
to be an act of the mind, virtue ceases to be a real merit. 
But originally, knowledge must have been an act of the 
mind, and virtue a merit : otherwise, the former is not 
knowledge, even when it recounts what is true, but a preju- 
dice ; and the second is only a happy quality, and not a 
title to esteem. Habit only serves to dispense with reviewing 
incessantly what we have once clearly perceived, or with 
renewing an effort for the observance of the same duty. 

We repeat incessantly, that we ought to form good hab- 
its. Nothing is more true ; but this is not saying enough ; 
these habits should be founded on a good principle ; — that 
is to say, upon an enlightened conviction, upon a reflective 
sentiment, without which they would only constitute a kind 
of external regularity, and would not contribute to moral 
improvement. But this is not enough : even when the best 
habits have been contracted, it is also necessary to refer 
frequently to the principle which has presided over their 
formation ; and, as knowledge once acquired by memory 
would become barren and dead, if it were not frequent- 
ly restored to its primitive vigor by generating theorems, 
so also the most laudable qualities would degenerate, if 
they were not frequently reanimated by the vital warmth 
of moral sentiment. When not thus referred back to their 
origin, they are liable to be confounded, in their effects, 
with those blind habits, of which we have just spoken ; they 
no longer lend themselves to the variety of applications and 
wants which arise out of new circumstances; they are 
found either too absolute, or totally insufficient. 

In short, it is renouncing the principal benefit to be ex- 
pected from habits, to rest on them and dispense with that 



EXERCISE AND HABITS. 207 

internal activity, which should aspire incessantly to new 
acquisitions. The cultivation of intellect is checked when 
we turn perpetually in the same circle of ideas : ideas 
obtained, ought to be unceasingly subjected to new devel- 
opements, which call forth from them new relations. This 
continued internal labor adds to the clearness of the notions 
we possess, by rendering them fruitful ; in proportion as it 
multiplies their number, it makes them more easily under- 
stood, and establishes a more perfect consistency between 
them : as we know more we know better. Moral cultiva- 
tion is checked, also, if we neglect to offer to the Love of 
Excellence new aliment, and to Self-government matter for 
new triumphs. When we repose upon the consciousness of 
good habits, we allow the inward powers, by which the soul 
acts and displays itself, to languish and become extinct. 
We keep up the appearance of action in the external world, 
but the internal life ceases; thus, this pretended fatal repose 
is, in reality, a going backward. On the contrary, when 
the Love of Excellence, and Self-goverment, the active fac- 
ulties of the soul, maintain their footing by successive con- 
quests, all acquired qualities receive from them new force 
and purity. For all rules, all motives of excellence, pre- 
serve strict analogy to each other, and are derived from a 
common source ; and the further we advance, the more 
completely we seize the intimate relations which unite them. 

Thus when we recommend exercise as the principal 
means of progress, it must be understood, that we are not 
only to exercise ourselves in acting, but in feeling and see- 
ing also ; that we are not only to repeat mechanically the 
same things, but to preserve the motives also, and to grow 
in strength and free will. In a word, it is the soul itself, 
which must be exercised in its most inward faculties. 

Let us beware then of breaking up the natural harmony, 
which should exist between good habits and the impulse of 
progressive activity. Let us beware of wishing to subsist 
all our lives upon the acquisitions of a few years, and, after 



208 SELF-EDUCATION. 

having begun as men, to live on as automata. He who 
would neglect to accept the assistance of habit, would fill 
incessantly the cask of the Danaides : he would be, with 
regard to the practice of virtue, what a man without 
memory would be in regard to knowledge. Losing con- 
stantly what he acquires, having no past, binding nothing 
together by the spirit of connexion, he would be the sport of 
continued change ; always beginning and never finishing. 
Shut up in his habits, as in a sort of fortress, and con- 
demning himself to unfold nothing of all that is hidden 
within, he would cease to relish, or even understand excel- 
lence. He would no longer lire, in the true sense of the 
word ; he would be a sort of moral petrifaction ; he would 
preserve only the form of what he was. While every thing 
around him would be renewing itself, he alone would stand 
still. Astonished to see himself surpassed by those who do 
not share his lethargy, he would condemn progress itself as a 
sort of rash innovation ; he would be scandalized at improve- 
ments ; we should see him deny the possibility of making 
ourselves better, smile disdainfully at the most just and noble 
hopes, and think himself exempt from illusions, when he is 
in reality only the slave of his prejudices. We should see 
him systematically impose upon others the limits he has 
imposed upon himself; like a paralytic, who should pretend 
to deny men the faculty of motion. He might even attribute 
to himself a marked superiority over others ; for we think 
ourselves great when we do not perceive our limits. 

Habit lends special aid to all the virtues, which imply 
fidelity and constancy. The exercise of the active faculties 
prepares a no less powerful aid to the virtues which demand 
a spontaneous effort, a kind of transport of soul. Moreover, 
all the virtues unite these two conditions, but in unequal 
proportions. Moral education will enable us to satisfy the 
demands of both. 

In society, also, as well as in each individual, there is a 
great, perpetual, and universal combat : the combat between 



EXERCISE AND HABITS. 209 

tlie blfi and the new. It embraces ideas and sentiments, 
arts and institutions. It is the combat between habits and 
efforts, between repose and motion. We might say that 
^these two great forces, always present, play in the moral 
Vorld the same part which is assigned by astronomers in 
the planetary system to gravitation and impulsion ; but in 
the planetary system they produce a perfect equilibrium ; 
therefore its order is never broken. Or we might say, that, 
as in external nature, there are two principles, one perma- 
nent, matter and its properties ; the other always new and 
productive, motion; — principles which are combined in 
wonderful harmony : so in the combat between the old and 
the new, one of the two forces is armed for resistance, the 
other for attack ; one invokes authority, the other enthusi- 
asm ; the former seems more faithful, the latter more gener- 
ous ; the one, the guardian of stability, is conservative ; the 
other, the mother of improvements, productive; the former, 
by repelling all change, would stop all progress; the latter, 
by hastening progress, would create all dangers ; the first is 
as immovable, as the second is presumptuous ; the first is 
occupied only in maintaining, as if nothing had begun ; the 
second only in creating, as if nothing had existed. Let 
them be united, instead of being hostile to each other. Do 
we not feel the need of their mutual aid? By their union, 
what is old will unceasingly renew its youth, which is the 
only preservative against destruction ; what is new will be 
engrafted upon this only solid foundation ; every thing will 
go on together in harmony. This great alliance will pro- 
duce progress. In social order, it will be the union of cus- 
toms and freedom ; in science and the arts, it will be the 
union of experience with the spirit of invention ; in morali- 
ty, that of constancy and generosity. Behold, with what 
art, nature, in the first education of man, has combined 
these two rival powers ! Hardly is he born, before habits 
are contracted ; they go on multiplying daily ; but, daily, 
new objects modify, bend, and extend them, awakening and 
18* 



210 SELF-EDUCATION. 

preserving internal activity. Let us continue the work of 
nature upon the same plan : let us watch over the origin of 
our habits, in order to contract salutary ones, and to form 
them only on mature reflection ; let us watch over them 
also, when acquired, that they may not degenerate. But 
let us also turn to the future, and never cease to be young 
for truth and virtue. Borne upon a vast ocean, exposed to 
innumerable tempests, but called to a fixed port, let mem- 
ory be our anchor, hope our sail. 



CHAPTER III. 



CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 



The world commits the error of making morality con,sist 
in the natural affections ; but philosophers, in their turn, 
sometimes commit the error of separating it from the affec- 
tions, and, sometimes, even of sacrificing the latter altogeth- 
er. But sensibility, well directed, is a happy and gradual 
preparation for the exercise of duty, rendering it easier and 
more delightful, and, above all, giving strength to accom- 
plish it ; for it is, as it were, the youth of the moral life. 
Sensibility is nourished by disinterestedness; it makes us 
practise it unconsciously ; and it gives to it a singular 
charm, leading where duty would lead, without the notion, 
or indeed the merit of it ; for it is the dawn of that Love, 
which alone deserves the name. 

The art of cultivating sensibility, and of directing it 
aright, is, therefore, an essential part of our early internal ed- 
ucation. Undoubtedly this beautiful faculty is a gift of na- 
ture, and nature has distributed it unequally among men. 
At the same time, there are none of us, who have been disin- 
herited of this treasure of the heart. Those, who appear to 



CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 211 

have been left in indigence, have only impoverished them- 
selves, by neglecting or dissipating their patrimony. Sen- 
sibility sometimes appears enfeebled with age, if experience, 
which should only enlighten it, and society, which, in 
many ways might give it support, have contrary effects. 
But we have a larger part, than we are aware of, in the evil 
caused ; and we should first of all suspect ourselves, our 
own frivolity, and imprudence. 

Two principal causes debase, and progressively destroy, 
this delightful power of the heart, and prevent it from un- 
folding. One has its origin without, the other within. The 
first is the dissipation and distraction, which springs from liv- 
ing in all kinds of external tumult, by which we are carried 
from object to object, without being permitted to fix upon any 
thing ; which, agitating us without relaxation, prevents us 
from living with ourselves. And the other is that restless, 
reflective, ambitious, personal feeling, which takes the forms 
of pride, vanity, and self-love. The first cause dissipates 
sensibility, the other dries up its source. 

Sensibility is a principle hidden in the depths of the 
heart, which only comes to light in the calmness of self- 
recollection. It must fold itself up, and feed on its own emo- 
tions : hence it delights in retirement and silence. It is a 
delicate plant, which must grow apart, and in the shade ; an 
exquisite and sweet perfume, which rapidly evaporates, if 
exposed to the open air. In the scenery of nature, as in the 
productions of the arts, sensibility seeks sweet and sombre 
coloring, undulating and far reaching lines. It seeks mys- 
terious recesses, which seem to open to it an asylum. It 
has secret melodies, which can be heard only by the most 
attentive ear. Nothing protects it better than grave and 
serious thoughts. It cannot attend to many objects at once. 
It cannot pass rapidly from one object to another. It at- 
taches itself the more, the longer it has been attached. 

The preoccupation of business is often more fatal to sen- 
sibility than the dissipation of frivolity. The dissipation of 



212 SELP»E»UCATION. 

frivolity has a limit, and sometimes the heart finds itself 
again, and experiences a sort of surprise and oy, which 
restore to it a new life. But the preoccupation of that 
which we call business, is nothing but a habit of being 
absorbed in material interests ; it places us face to face 
with men in the attitude of defence ; it leads constantly to 
the distinctions of thine and mine. In the transactions, 
which compose business, each stipulates to acquire; while 
in the commerce of the affections all are occupied with 
giving. 

Besides, sensibility generally avoids all that has the ap- 
pearance of calculation ; and repulses that, which is too 
determinate and precise. It fears to encounter shackles or 
even to perceive them, seeing in them a restraint upon its 
liberty, an obstacle to that forgetfulness of self, that confi- 
dence in which it delights. It is disconcerted by the rigor 
of methods, by the clearness of definitions. It needs a sort 
of vagueness and mystery : it would wander freely : it can^. 
not be a captive. 

We know how deep is the taint which sensuality carries- 
to the sensibility of the soul ; the injury is the greater, as 
the pleasures are more material and gross in their character; 
Man seems to lose, in this sort of excess, the consciousness 
of his inward life. This kind of intoxication leads to the 
sleep of the heart, as well as that of reason. However, if 
these wanderings do not lead to absolute degradation, the 
selfishness of the senses is less fatal to sensibility, than the 
selfishness of auibitious pretensions. Though it seldom 
happens, that we give ourselves up to sensual pleasures, 
when the soul is full of lively and tender affections ; there 
is, sometimes, in the sort of hilarity and personal enjoyment, 
which these pleasures procure, a disposition favorable to 
confidence and self-forgetfulness, and even ta generosity. 
But pride, vanity, and self-love shut up the heart every way, 
and do not permit to it any expansion. They keep it in a 
constant state of hostility, of suspicion, and of the disposition 



CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 213 

to invade. Pride introduces distance, while sensibility 
would bring together, and confound. Pride would govern, 
while sensibility would please. Vanity demands distinc- 
tions, but sensibility requires that equality, which alone 
gives rise to confidence. Vanity seeks applause ; but sensi- 
bility fears admiration, lest it should take away from love. 
Self-love troubles the social relations by its susceptibilities 
and its claims ; sensibility has need, above all things, of 
security in these relations. Pride loves to protect ; vanity 
loves to show itself powerful ; both, therefore, sometimes 
take pleasure in conferring, because in that they affect a 
sort of superiority ; but their favors bear the impress of os- 
tentation. Sensibility can accept protection, when neces- 
sary : it knows how to enjoy receiving; and bears joyfully 
the debt of gratitude, blessinor the hand which has conferred 
the benefit. When it confers, it is ignorant of its generos- 
ity, so natural is the impulse. Self-love may be ambitious 
of pleasing; sensibility would do more ; it would give con- 
solation, and is eager to make others enjoy. The most 
exquisite pleasure upon earth, that of feeling one's self be- 
loved, may be poisoned by self-love. Pride is disdainful, 
while sensibility takes pleasure in setting forth and honoring 
the object of its affections. Sensibility of heart is devel- 
oped only in proportion as we forget ourselves, by accus- 
toming ourselves to exist in others ; but there is no more 
active, more ingenious, more persevering, more universal 
Belf-seeking, than that of which vanity is the moving prin- 
ciple. 

Self-love is an enemy, so much the more dangerous to 
sensibility, because it disguises itself when it seduces, and 
insinuates itself near the heart, with forms of friendship, 
seeming to associate itself with its interests. 

If we succeed in removing from ourselves these two 
obstacles, distraction from without, and self-seeking from 
within, sensibility may then come to light ; and the disci- 
pline proper to second it, will be much more simple than we 



214 SELF-EDUCATION. 

may be led to think. For, there is no art which can give 
sensibility ; the very efforts, which might be made to excite 
it, would be dangerous : we should act upon the imagina- 
tion more than upon the heart, and only deceive ourselves. 
Emotions, which we make up and command for ourselves, 
are neither useful, profound, nor stable. They paralyze 
ingenuous emotions. If the education of this faculty of the 
soul is an art, the true art will consist here, as in so many 
other things, in only observing and following the indications 
of nature, which, rightly understood, are always the voice of 
Providence. It is plain, for example, that Providence wills 
to keep us during early youth in the bosom of our family, 
as in the abode where this great education may in the best 
manner commence. But it is not, as we suppose, for chil- 
dren alone that this school is open. There, the education 
of parents must continue, and that of the aged must end; 
all parties in turn drawing forth abundant instruction. The 
family is a school for all, where we may learn every day, 
what we ought to learn all our lives ; where we may learn. 
to love ; where we may learn it so much the better, as we 
are called upon to show ourselves more generous, and to 
taste the happiness of conferring. It is there we obtain the 
touching privilege of living for others, and of entirely for- 
getting ourselves. It is therefore in the bosom of the do- 
mestic affections, that sensibility seems destined to receive 
its birth, to grow, and to strengthen. We may, with some 
foundation, suspect those exalted sentiments, which certain 
persons affect beyond their own sphere, but which they can- 
not diffuse at home. Hence also, we often remark, that sensi- 
bility withers or takes a wrong direction, with those whom cir- 
cumstances have deprived of the happiness of their natural 
relations. 

In general, we preserve this precious faculty of the heart 
only in proportion as we cultivate truth, and guard against 
all that is exaggerated, affected, or factitious. The super- 
ficial spectator is often deceived, We are oft^Qn deceived 



CULTIVATION OP SENSIBILITY. 215 

with regard to ourselves, having much more real sensibility 
than appears, or than we are sensible of, merely because it 
has followed its regular course, and produces no extraordi- 
nary and irregular explosions. There are people who mouri* 
over the excess of their own sensibility, when perhaps they 
ought really to be afflicted for not knowing how to love. 

Hence arises undoubtedly the secret sympathy,, which 
minds of sensibility feel for nature ; especially for the con- 
templation of the works of creation. Nature^ by all the 
various productions with which she has peopled our dwell- 
ing-place, has formed a peculiar and eloquent, though si- 
lent language, which addresses, awakens, and preserves our 
affections. Her thousand shades of coloring, her thousand 
perfumes, her thousand forms, her motions, which appear 
spontaneous ; the combinations of these, and their succes- 
sion, are all so many expressions, by which she seems to. 
compassionate our sorrows, smile upon our joys, and invite 
our tenderness and confidence. And these expressions are 
so faithful, that we, in our turn, borrow them to supply the 
barrenness of our language. It seems as if we imagined ai 
vast theatre, upon which is represented, in a sort of wonder- 
ful pantomime, the great drama of human affections. Here,, 
grief seems to sigh, there, hope to brighten ; here, generosi- 
ty seems to bloom, there, delicacy to veil herself from all 
eyes : here, reciprocal attractions answer to each other, by 
a sort of sympathy ; there, tributes are offered in warship ;. 
while over all is serenity and silence, those safeguards of 
pure sentiments, of that truth and ingenuousness, which 
alone can give to sentiment, sincerity and candor. Such is 
nature, and to this refuge the tender heart, when painfully 
deceived in its intercourse with men, may come in safety, 
for it is always open, it is always a faithful friend. Souls 
united by celestial affection, are able to enter this sanctuary, 
and to find in it a witness which seems to sympathize with 
their happiness. Moreover, and this deserves to be partic- 
ularly remarked, there is in the contemplation of nature, 



216 SELF-EDUCATION. 

something which, unfolding sensibility, makes it serve it» 
greatest purpose, that is to say, our moral education ; for 
how can we fail to be directed towards the thoughts of vir- 
tue, by those images of perfect though hidden order, which 
are produced in the grand whole, and in the most minute 
details, sometimes with imposing majesty, sometimes with 
enchanting grace ; by this spectacle of a kingdom ruled by 
wise and powerful laws, where all obey without effort, and 
through obedience produce harmony and excellence ; by 
these contrasts of change and steadiness of agitation and 
repose, of birth and destruction and resurrection, of the 
infinitely great and of the infinitely little, — contrasts which 
appear so well to paint the secrets of cur destiny ; by the 
brilliant testimonies of the immense wisdom which presides 
over the universal system of being ; and lastly, by that peace, 
so favorable to the meditations of the heart, and that ineffa- 
ble simplicity, which reduces to nothingness the display of 
human vanities. 

Is our treatment of animals without influence upon the 
habits of our character ? This question has for some time 
excited, and deserves, indeed, serious attention. The ab- 
surd hypothesis of the Cartesians cannot be supported in 
presence of so many manifest signs, which announce, in 
those unknown beings (separated from us by a thick bar- 
rier, but endowed with organs similar to our own), a prin- 
ciple of sensibility, and a dawning of intelligence. Audit 
is impossible for a man to accustom himself to see the suffer- 
ings of sentient beings, though invested with a different 
form, without becoming less compassionate to the sufferings 
of his fellow-mortals. This danger will become much more 
serious, if he becomes the author of their sufferings ; espe- 
cially if he goes so far as to take any sort of pleasure in their 
sufferings ; for the principle of sympathy will be necessarily 
destroyed by it ; and, if sympathy is not sensibility of heart 
in all its purity, it is at least its prelude and auxiliary. Can 
we consent to create pain upon earth gratuitously ? What 



CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 217 

have these unfortunate beings done to us, upon whom we 
exercise this power 1 Do we even torment those who lend 
us their services with docility, and almost with eagerness ; 
who seem even to share our pleasures, and to seek with us 
the relations of a particular affection ? O should not the mys- 
tery, which veils their existence from us, command in us a 
sort of reserve, or at least of timidity ? However, let us also 
beware ; there is a contrary exaggeration to be avoided. 
If cruelty towards animals can harden the heart, there is 
often, in the impressions received from the sight of their 
sufferings, more of that organic sensibility, which the signs 
of pain excite, than of those true emotions of the soul, which 
alone constitute the affections. The unknown beings, 
which breathe in the animal creation, whatever their nature 
may be, are too far from us, too much below us, for our sen- 
sibility not to be profaned by admitting them to a commerce 
of those affections, which must always have a moral char- 
acter. Sensibility has a certain dignity to preserve, in order 
to fulfill its vocation. 

There is a second condition not less essential to the cul- 
ture of sensibility, and which refers to it still more particu- 
larly. This consists in directing our affections towards 
objects, which truly deserve to inspire and captivate them. 
When wandering at hazard, they are exposed to mistakes, 
or contract a fatal restlessness ; but on the contrary, when 
founded upon reason and right, they will become more 
strong and more durable. And this general observation 
may have two applications ; our affections may be claimed 
as a homage, and they may be invoked as an assistance. 

Happy are those, who find models of virtue in the beings 
to whom they are bound by the ties of nature, and who can 
thus join the sentiment of veneration to the instincts of ten- 
derness ! What love is this, mingled with admiration and 
blending with the very worship of virtue ! Happier still are 
those, who, by offering examples of a good life to the beings 
whom nature has placed under their protection, can thus 
19 



218 SELF-EDUCATION. 

confer upon them the greatest of all benefits, by giving to 
their hearts the most useful instructions, and affording to 
their affections the most lawful titles ! How constantly 
should attention to this be observed in the ties, which are 
of our own choosing! Over these intimate relations should 
preside a wise reserve and an enlightened discernment. 
We complain incessantly of having been deceived in our 
sentiments. Ought we not rather to accuse ourselves of 
having been imprudent and blind, in the relations we have 
contracted? This is not all : it is not given to us to find 
around us perfect beings : habitual intercourse makes us 
gradually perceive the imperfections even of the best. Lest 
these discoveries should surprise and chill us, lest the fresh- 
ness of sentiment should thus decay, — there is a sort of 
delicate care to be taken in observing the objects of our 
affections, in order that they may not be deprived of their 
coloring, by the impressions which familiarity tends to pro- 
duce ; we should veil from our own eyes what is least dis- 
tinguished in them ; we should preserve unsullied the senti- 
ment which honors them ; for we truly love only what we 
can recognise as honorable. What more terrible enemy, 
then, on the theatre of society, can sensibility encounter, 
than that caustic spirit, which is eager to disenchant and 
overthrow every thing ? What more fatal influence can 
there be for it, than the sight of that cruel play of mind, in 
which malignant frivolity takes pleasure in violating the 
respect due to goodness of heart, and in pursuing candor 
with the arrows of irony ? How can sensibility dare to ap- 
pear where the art of aspersing, in elegant disguise, wears 
the appearance of grace, and is celebrated as a thing of 
good taste, and becomes a condition of success in society? 

Dignity fears to incur debts of gratitude too lightly. Just 
delicacy shrinks from incurring them from those it cannot 
esteem, or with whom it can preserve only fugitive relations. 
Self-love also frequently repels an obligation which humbles 
it ; and emptiness of heart refuses to promise what it has 



CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 219 

not the means of performing. But there are benefits, which 
it is not in our power to reject, and which have even antici- 
pated us before any reflection on our part. There is some- 
times an exquisite delicacy, which requires us to accept : 
and sensibility takes pleasure in receiving, in the most inti- 
mate intercourse of affection ; thereby offering a more per- 
fect pledge of love. He who accepts, loves. Gratitude, 
born under such auspices, becomes the instructer and pro- 
tector of sensibility. It gives to the affections the charac- 
ter of a sacred debt. It elevates in our eyes those whom it 
makes us love ; it disposes us to respect others ; it feeds on 
memory ; it is the fidelity of the heart; it makes selfishness 
captive as it were to love, and obliges it to render homage. 
Gratitude also has a sort of generosity which is peculiar to 
it ; this is the very sacrifice it imposes upon %elf-love. Let 
us rejoice, then, that our destiny in life called us to receive, 
in infancy and youth, so long a train of benefits. It was so 
because gratitude is given to us to preside over the educa- 
tion of our sensibility. Let us rejoice, in old age, to find 
ourselves dependent upon the services of others. Gratitude 
will thus again warm the heart to sensibility in the evening 
of life. We have need of others from the cradle to the 
grave, because love should occupy the avenues and the 
issues of life. What is it to live, if it is not to love ? 

Besides the affections, which carry us to those above us, 
there are others, which are directed towards those who 
solicit our aid ; for it is by this kind of exchange, by this 
double direction of sensibility, that those gradual ties are 
formed, which preserve life in human society. Pity is use- 
ful to those, to whose relief it comes : it is still more so, 
perhaps, to those who relieve. To the latter it teaches ten- 
derness ; revealing to them all that is sacred in the ties 
which unite us to our brethren ; introducing them into the 
sanctuary of humanity. But the pity, which has this influ- 
ence, is not disdainful ; it is a pity, which is mingled with 
just respect for misfortune : it is not that which seeks to 



220 SELF-EDUCATION. 

gratify itself by the sight of suffering ; it is that which feels 
the need of drying up its sources. How easy it is to love 
those whom we can indeed serve ! What new faculties we 
discover in ourselves, when unexpected opportunities of 
self-devotion offer, and when we afterwards taste the over- 
whelming joy of having been able to shed around us relief 
or happiness ! Even the warrior, so terrible in combat, 
when oppressed innocence invokes his support, is not only 
moved but softened, and the most delicate emotions of his 
soul are brought to light. 

This leads us to a third condition of sensibility. It is the 
activity of benevolence ; and we here take benevolence in 
the most general sense, as that which brings real benefit to 
other men. Sometimes, sensibility, self-deluded, seems to 
take pleasure in voluptuous repose. This state of prolong- 
ed repose has a deceitful attraction for it : it would soon 
exhaust and consume itself by the abuse of solitary pleas- 
ures. It needs action for its food, as well as experience for 
its regulator. When benevolence becomes beneficence^ 
sensibility learns to personify and particularize its emotions, 
and to give them a determined object. It feeds upon the 
same things, which serve to satisfy it. It is encouraged by 
the rewards it receives. He who devotes himself to others, 
learns to love still better ; for then only can he know all the 
bliss of loving. Sensibility is made perfect through benefi- 
cence, because in that, it fulfills its true destination, defend- 
ing itself from the sombre melancholy which consumes it 
when inactive, and preventing the dangers, to which a thirst 
for the vague and the indefinite exposes it. The sensibility 
of beneficence, incessantly finding around it new objects 
which invoke and respond to it, is reanimated every instant 
with new life ; in short, if it experiences disappointment, 
instead of the affection which it hoped for, it has always an 
advantage, which is subject to no mistake, the memory of 
good done to others. 



CULTIVATION OP SENSIBILITY. 221 

Memory and hope are the two great levers, which act 
upon the developement of sensibility, with an almost equal 
power, but in a different manner. 

Although memory is partly an organic phenomenon, the 
reminiscence consequent upon it is an intellectual and moral 
phenomenon of great interest. There is nothing more 
grave and serious in itself than the return towards the past 
which is no more. It puts us in presence of the future ; it 
teaches us at once, both the changeableness and perma- 
nence of our being ; it recalls to us our weakness and 
our dignity ; it leads us to enter into the high mysteries of 
existence. Ourself, which appears and is recognised in the 
distance of of time, is astonished and affected to find itself 
there. Around this ancient self, revive the objects of affec- 
tion, all the old companions of life; but they rise surround- 
ed by an unknown charm. There is something tender and 
solemn in this meeting. We feel, that, amid the rapid and 
variable course of circumstances, there are still indestructi- 
ble ties. The cultivation of recollection, then, opens 
abundant sources to sensibility. It consecrates the images 
of the absent; it gives a religious coloring to the affections 
of the heart ; it places them under the safeguard of fidelity, 
and by this fidelity communicates to them a singular purity 
and elevation. It is remarkable for being by nature emi- 
nently disinterested ; for it can satisfy no ambition , it can 
acquit only the debts of the heart. But when, filled with 
regrets, memory concentrates the soul upon itself, it tends 
to throw it into a sort of languor, it surrounds it with a cloud 
of melancholy, and, if it were not sustained by virtue, it 
would sometimes be carried away by despair ; if it were not 
fed by virtue, at other times it might also be annihilated. 
Memory becomes weakened by time ; but time gives to 
memory, when this can survive it, an ever-increasing charm. 
It thus prolongs that glance, which the soul throws upon 
the past, and thereby imparts something more majestic and 
august to the objects it discovers there, and gives a greater 
19* 



222 SELF-EDUCATION. 

value to the constancy of the affections, with which it con- 
tinues to honor them. 

The future, also, has its prospects and its mysteries, and 
some, which have still more extent and depth. The past is 
limited, determined, definite ; the future is unknown, and 
seems without bounds. The past is decided, immutable, 
out of our power : the future seems to belong to us; it be- 
longs to us, at least, in all that is subject to free will. 
From the bosom of the future, seem to issue a thousand 
voices, which respond to our affections. They are so many 
echoes, which repeat to the heart its own invocations and 
aspirations. What continued emotions this concert pre- 
serves and renews, without ceasing ! Hope adorns at will 
the objects of the affections. It invests them with a vague- 
ness, which embellishes them still more. It lends them 
another attraction, by the very distance, at which it keeps 
them, and by our impatience to possess them. It is not, as 
yet, cooled by possession, or disenchanted by experience. 
Hope is expansive, like love. It animates love by confidence. 
It is serene, joyous, radiant. It triumphs beforehand. It 
communicates to the affections the impulse by which it is in- 
spired. The future has its terrors, however, as well as its 
hopes : and hope, the daughter of imagination, accompan- 
ies the capricious power from which it springs, in its wan- 
derings, and suffers from its mistakes. And if imagination 
has nourished sensibility by flattering it, so it may by de- 
ceiving destroy it. Hope, also, opens^to selfishness the same 
career as to generosity and affection : and therefore may be 
seduced and corrupted. 

The presence of novelty is a signal to man, of hope and 
fear. The more unknown is the situation, the more free is 
the imagination to fill it with anticipations, which may 
smile upon or terrify him. 

Placed thus between the old and the new, man, when he 
dwells too long upon any one object, may, according to its 
nature, become discouraged, or abandon himself to pre- 



CULTIVATION OF SENSIBILITY. 223 

sumption. Providence has granted him these two points of 
view, that their contrary influences may temper each other. 
The cultivation of sensibility will receive from their con- 
currence the most favorable assistance. There is nothing, 
which excites in the soul more powerful emotions than the 
wakening of an old recollection, when, after a long inter- 
ruption, it is suddenly revived by new circumstances. Then 
the two great movers of human sensibility act at once, unit- 
ing and combining their forces. All the power of memory 
is found united with all the magic of hope. The soul ex- 
tending itself on all sides, seems to seize upon the future 
and the past. But the future has no longer deceitful illu- 
sions, since it presents itself as a reflection of experience; 
the past is no longer full of regret, because it has become 
present again. This rare and wonderful combination of 
effects is sometimes afforded to the exile, when, on his return, 
he postrates himself upon his native shore ; and sometimes 
has been afforded to a whole people, by those great political 
revolutions, which have either restored princes who were 
dear, or institutions which were sacred. Such happiness 
can only be tasted upon earth momentarily ; but doubtless 
awaits the virtuous on the threshold of immortality. The 
very nature of things does not permit these uncommon 
occurrences to produce a lasting effect. But it depends 
somewhat upon ourselves to render them more frequent. 
Let us put our hopes under the protection of experience ; 
let us nourish the reminiscences of the heart, by legitimate 
and reasonable expectations of promised reunion ; in other 
words, let us confide in the virtue of these two great levers. 
This faith will bring them into harmony. What is virtue 
itself, but an ever enduring hope, dwelling amidst the most 
constant recollections 1 For it is always old and al waj'S new ; 
old in its immutable rules, new in acts of self-devotion. It 
carries the soul back to its origin, and unveils to it the fu- 
ture. It renews its youth incessantly by the creations it 
requires, and the rewards which it promises. 



224 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Independently of the causes which may develope sensi- 
bility, there are some which contribute especially to preserve 
it. In the number of the latter, we should particularly point 
out fidelity to the affections, and habits of respect. 

Generous sentiments follow a law, the reverse of that 
which regulates organic sensibility. These are strengthen- 
ed by exercise, and grow in feeding upon themselves. If 
men, changeable in their affections, think that they have 
real affection, they make a mistake ; they take the im- 
pulses of the imagination for the emotions of the soul. In 
changing its objects sensibility condemns and secretly con- 
tradicts itself; and contracts something of caprice. Fideli- 
ty is the integrity of sentiments, which, elevating them to 
the dignity of virtue, imparts to them something more pure. 
Let it be observed that we speak not that wild sensibility, 
which lavishes itself in demonstrations ; but of that which 
resides in the bottom of the heart, and which makes us live 
in those we love. 

Habits of respect give self-collectedness ; they aid reflec- 
tion ; they diffuse calmness, and restore order to the inward 
world. Respect for other men so far as it is due to them, 
respect for self, respect for truth and for the laws of duty, 
protect all sincere and deep emotions. The sentiment of 
respect prevents that frivolity, which is the most common 
enemy of sensibility ; it surrounds the soul with a rampart 
against a crowd of distractions. It favors self-communion ; 
it gives to this communion dignity and seriousness. Ask 
the affectionate and tender if they do not take pleasure in 
respecting the object of their affections 1 And what would 
become of the delicacy of love, if this veil were torn away 1 



MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 225 



CHAPTER IV. 

MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 

Meditation is the great and universal teacher of man* 
Alone imparting the light of theory, it presides over all the 
creations of genius, and the discoveries of science ; and 
guides all its applications to art. But meditation performs 
a still more important part in our moral education ; for in 
this last function it sheds the fullest light, putting man in 
possession of all his faculties, and elevating him to all the 
dignity of his nature. In the arts and sciences, meditation 
can only elaborate the elementary facts furnished by obser- 
vation. In the work of our moral education, its end is also 
to make us explore our own nature, in order to gather from 
it the elementary facts, which will reveal to us the laws of 
duty and initiate us into the knowledge of ourselves. In 
the arts and sciences, meditation operates only on our ideas, 
but in the work of our moral education it must excite the 
sentiments which are associated with or flow from the idea 
of excellence, and must animate us to realize them in prac- 
tice. Meditation is the soul of wisdom; and, if meditation 
presents many difficulties in study, and is familiar only to so 
small a number of minds, it is plain that access to it, is, on 
some accounts, less easy and still less common in morals ; 
for the exercises of study are supported by different sorts 
of sensible signs, or nomenclatures ; but in the sphere of 
morals, all external aid is wanting ; and thought remains 
entirely abandoned to itself, feeding only upon its own fruits, 
and sustaining itself only by its own strength. 

There is, as we have said, in morality, both an idea and 
feeling : the idea enlightens the intellect, and feeling gov- 
erns the will ; but the feeling flows from the idea clearly 
conceived. Such is the imposing authority with which God 



226 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



has invested the law of duty, that in proportion as it is 
offered to our minds simple, and free from all that is facti- 
tious, it exercises over us certain and absolute authority. 
But this idea of duty we seek in vain, in the world without ; 
we can only find its reflection there. It resides in ourselves, 
in the deep sanctuary of consciousness. But we must not 
wait for it to show itself; we should take pains to discover 
and observe it. Ignorance and inattention cover it with a 
veil. When we are unfaithful to the law of duty, it is not, 
that we have an intention of violating it, but that we have 
neglected to study it. And far from doing evil for evil's sake, 
it would be almost impossible for us to resist the attraction 
of excellence, if we saw it in all its brightness. It is not 
enough, however, to look upon the model. We must dwell 
upon it a long time. It is necessary, that its influence 
should be gradually shed upon the soul, penetrate its deep 
recesses, take possession of and occupy it entirely. Such 
is the end which the art of meditation proposes. It is there- 
fore the first and most powerful of arts, since it alone can 
give man the enjoyment of the highest faculties with which 
the Creator has endowed him, and since it alone gives to 
intellect the character of a cause. 

Struck with the importance and fruitfulness of this great 
art of meditation, philosophic and ascetic writers have vied 
with each other, in their endeavours to trace its precepts ; 
and we are indebted to them for a great number of useful 
counsels upon a subject, on which such counsels are neces- 
sary. Yet the art of meditation has shared the fate of all 
other arts, when overwhelmed by the weight of didactic 
rules. It has been embarrassed by recommendations, use- 
less alike, to those who are capable of acting for themselves, 
and to those who are not. For these recommendations tell 
the first only what they would do of themselves, and advise 
the second to what they are incapable of doing. It has been 
loaded with almost mechanical processes, which, by en- 
deavouring to render its operations more easy, take from 
them the true principle of action. 



MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 227 

Thus, it has been thought necessary to choose a subject, 
determine it, circumscribe it, divide it. Time and place have 
been assigned for action and for repose, for considerations 
and for sentiments. The very moments for reflection and emo- 
tion have been pointed out. Charts have been drawn, meth- 
ods prescribed, formulas composed. Thus the exercise of the 
moral and intellectual faculties has been rigorously subject- 
ed to a routine in which every thing has been arranged 
beforehand. It has not been considered, that these facul- 
ties, in order to fulfil their functions well, must preserve a 
certain degree of independence. It has been too much for- 
gotten, that the first and most useful counsel for meditation, 
consists, in recommending that energy and freedom of mind, 
which permits the soul to appropriate to itself the truths it 
meditates upon, having first drawn them out from its own 
depths. 

In effect, what is most difficult in the exercises of medi- 
tation is, — not to meditate after having begun, but to find 
out, and to penetrate, the region of meditation. Its access 
is so difficult, that it terrifies those who attempt it, and this 
circumstance explains to us why the art of meditation is 
practised by so few. When we first wish to give ourselves 
up to it, we feel repelled, as it were, on all sides. First, 
a thousand recollections assail us in the retreat where we 
have sought refuge. The changeable and capricious phan- 
toms of distant events return, and hovering around us in a 
thousand forms trouble us, more than the objects them- 
selves did, when they were present. Do we succeed in 
quieting this tumult, a second trial not less painful awaits 
us. It is silence, obscurity, a void. Instead of those fertile 
regions we hoped to visit joyfully, we discover only a barren 
desert. In vain do we invoke the celestial images, which 
we thought would enrapture us. They fly from us ; we 
fall back upon ourselves, overwhelmed with the weight of 
ennui. We see within us only the horrors of a vast solitude. 
Do we make another and a last effort? The darkness 



228 SELF-EDUCATION. 

seems to disappear, and our ideas to revive ; but they rise 
confused, incoherent, and disordered. They escape when 
we expect to seize them. They hurry, crowd, and strike 
against each other, and perhaps plunge us into the worst 
trial of all, the trial of uncertainty and doubt. It is only 
when we have courage to overcome these three classes of 
difficulties, that we at last attain that luminous and peaceful 
sphere, in which all the fruits and all the pleasures of medita- 
tion await us. But before we attain it, how often are we 
discouraged. We renounce the attempt, we declare that 
success is impossible. It is of primary importance, then, 
to facilitate the access to the regions to which meditation 
calls us. This may be done by suitable preparation, and all 
the cares this preparation demands are comprised in self- 
recollection. Self-recollection does not consist exclusively, 
as some mystics have thought, in that isolation, which frees 
the soul from all external distraction. It demands, how- 
ever, especially, that the soul should collect all its forces, 
and dispose of them with sovereign power. The presence 
of certain external objects will sometimes strengthen rather 
than weaken this energetic act; for, in the absence of 
every external object, the soul sometimes remains plunged 
in lethargic indolence. Self-recollection is a state of in- 
ward liberty, at once active and peaceful, because it is well 
regulated. But we do not attain this state at will, or in- 
stantaneously. The very faculty of enjoying it, is a pre- 
rogative, purchased by a long novitiate, and it is on this 
point, that inexperienced persons are deceived, who present 
themselves at the gate of the sanctuary, confident of being 
immediately admitted. Neophytes of a day, they are aston- 
ished not to obtain initiation ; but they must begin by ren- 
dering themselves worthy of it. This necessary novitiate 
consists, in a good plan of life, in observing order, regu- 
larity and sobriety in all things, and especially in the habit 
of self-watchfulness. 



MEDITATION, A MEANS OP CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 229 

There is, then, a long and distant, as well as a near and 
immediate preparation for meditation. The latter may be 
aided by a concurrence of external circumstances, such as 
silence and retirement. Certain places and hours are more 
particularly favorable. The places suited to it are those 
most in harmony with our mental habits and dispositions ; 
those which inspire calmness, and, at the same time, excite 
uniform and serious impressions. The hours which are 
suited to it, are those, in which the soul, yet free from all 
communion with external objects, enjoys all its vigor and 
possesses itself; or those when, after having been interrupt- 
ed in this communion, it returns to itself, and resumes its 
newly acquired experience. Yet the influence of these 
different circumstances is modified according to individual 
character. There are some who need a more absolute iso- 
lation, and whose meditations never have more strength 
than in the profound solitude of night. There are others, 
on the contrary, whose thoughts must be sustained by the 
presence of a spectacle analogous lo their subjects of medi- 
tation ; as a weak and timid voice must be accompanied 
by the harmony of instruments. Yet we should try not to 
be dependent upon these accessories, which are not always 
in our power. Let us gradually habituate ourselves to pre- 
serve our liberty entire, amidst the tumult of the world, and 
outward occupations. By surrounding ourselves with facili- 
ties for attaining self-recollection, we become much more 
exposed to feel the effects of the distractions which may, 
after all, occur. Besides, by multiplying precautions of 
this kind, by shutting ourselves up in absolute isolation, by 
too strongly concentrating ourselves within ourselves, we are 
exposed to be carried away into vague reveries, or into the 
excess of an exaltation, which we cannot moderate, because 
we do not perceive it ourselves. Moreover, all this pre- 
paration of external precaution is of little aid to those, who 
know not how to obtain from within the proper preparation. 
The precautions themselves often seem only to increase 
20 



230 SELF-EDUCATION. 

the trouble, because the soul retains in itself a focus of agi- 
tations. It is in solitude that the violent passions are some- 
times nourished. It was an army of anchorites, that, issu- 
ing from the desert, brought disorder upon the empire of 
Byzantium. 

It is in the very sanctuary of thought, that the law of 
silence must be especially observed. There, all objects 
should be disposed in regular harmony ; there, freedom 
should be entire ; there, meditation should be protected by 
serious, but the most gentle images. If we have once suc- 
ceeded, by these precautions and this care, in becoming 
capable of this noble exercise, we shall know enough of 
the art of meditation, or rather we shall learn the rest our- 
selves. Perhaps we shall feel unexpected inspirations, much 
more luminous than all foreign counsels. Let us trust 
them, and afterwards consult our experience. 

The first thing which this experience will teach, is, that 
to torment or harass the mind by too numerous efforts, will 
not produce fruitful meditations. Meditation is the mother 
of strong thought and profound sentiment ; but both must 
spring from our souls naturally. We may indeed favor 
their spring, but agitation and constraint would arrest it. 
They are the more energetic, in proportion as they are the 
more spontaneous. The art of governing our understand- 
ing does not consist in oppression and violence, but in a 
wise and calm direction. Moral meditation is the soul com- 
muning with itself. It questions itself, and then must await 
and ponder the answer. In questioning itself, it must pre- 
serve perfect good faith ; it must avoid imposing upon itself 
a false answer. We only find out what we have a sincere 
desire to know. All men have in themselves nearly the 
same fund of primitive ideas ; they have, especially, the same 
moral fund ; the difference which there is in men, comes 
from the fact, that some know how to improve this fund, 
while others neglect it. Uneasy convulsions of mind, inter- 
rupting meditation while endeavouring to aid it, more usu- 



MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 231 

ally take possession of those who are beginning. There is 
nothing more difficult to comprehend, than what it is which 
constitutes a calm activity, because there is nothing more 
rare than to know how to restrain one's self in the midst of 
emotion. We pass from sleep to agitation, and fall back 
from agitation to sleep. Impatience to succeed, makes us 
fail in the right means of success. 

There is no fruitful meditation without method ; and in 
moral meditation this method is the more necessary, because 
thought is not supported from without, and because internal 
agitation tends incessantly to produce vagueness and inco- 
herence. This method, however, should not have the rigor 
and precison of scientific processes. It would then have 
their dryness. It must be natural and simple, in order to 
leave reflection and the impulses of the heart free. It 
should consist, at first, in disentangling the chaos in which 
ideas are confounded, in order to begin to distinguish and 
distribute them. It must especially prescribe the end of 
meditation, for, if this is clearly conceived, views will natu- 
rally arise from it in abundance; just as in geometry, when 
the position of the problem is well established, the means 
of solution rush in upon the path that is opened. Method 
leads to the discovery of those mother thoughts, which bear 
in their bosoms numerous germs ; it aids us to seize all rela- 
tions, and assigns to every consideration its rank ; bringing 
back to unity those scattered notions which are floating in 
the intellect, assigning to them a determinate place, enlight- 
ening them by each other, and deducing from them useful 
consequences. One of the greatest dangers, to which we 
are exposed, in the exercises of meditation, is to see them 
degenerate into a vague and idle reverie. A voluptuous 
effeminacy of soul then takes the place of the regular work 
of reflection. We no longer meditate, we forget ourselves ; 
we sleep ; perhaps we go astray in a false exaltation. Abys- 
ses may then open under our feet. Whence comes this 
danger 1 It is from our having allowed confusion, anarchy, 
^nd disorder to be introdAiced into these exercises, 



232 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



Results, it is true, will not be obtained in an instant, or 
on the first trial : there will be some irregularity in the 
success obtained, according to the momentary and uncon- 
trollable dispositions which we carry into these secret 
operations. It will be, then, especially necessary to perse- 
vere ; and this, we believe, is the third lesson we receive 
from experience. Perseverance will gradually lead to light 
and liberty. We must learn how to dwell upon one point 
of view for a sufficient length of time, in order to unravel 
all it contains. Sterility of mind is most frequently only 
the consequence of precipitation. In moral meditations, 
the repose which accompanies perseverance is the condition 
of the diffusion over the heart of sentiments which flow from 
reason. These sentiments require a certain interval of 
peaceful contemplation, in the same manner as admiration 
requires repose, that we may enjoy the masterpieces of the 
fine arts. The soul requires some leisure to collect the ema- 
nations of the good and the true, that it may taste and feed 
upon them, and transform them into its own substance. It 
even ought to avoid accumulating them fast, that each one 
may be suitably enjoyed, and that it may in its develope- 
ment acquire all the fruitfulness which belongs to it. 

In short, in order that the most abundant and most wise- 
ly directed meditation may bear its fruits, it must be suita- 
bly summed up and converted into simple results, which 
may remain fixed in the mind, and be applied. Method, 
if it preside over these exercises, will render this last opera- 
tion easy. But what will especially facilitate it, is the 
habit of diligently applying the fruits of meditation. Con- 
templation and action sometimes present themselves as two 
rivals, who dispute the possession of the moral man. The 
first finds zealous partisans among mystics, the second, 
among the friends of humanity ; but to operate well, each 
of these two powers has need of the assistance of the other ; 
they fortify and regulate each other, by their alliance. 
They mutually prepare for, correct, and test each other. 



MEDITATION, A MEANS OF CULTIVATING SENSIBILITY. 233 

The contemplation of moral truths, if it should remain ster- 
ile and idle, would condemn and belie itself It ought not 
to give to virtue voluptuous Sybarites, but courageous 
wrestlers. Understood rightly, it converts itself into practi- 
cal applications. It thirsts for good actions, and inspires 
the strength which they require. It delights to realize the 
images which it has dwelt upon with rapture. 

On the other hand, practice becomes, through moral 
meditation, what experience and observation are to the 
theories of the physical sciences, controlling, determining, 
and circumscribing what had only been conceived perhaps 
in a vague and incomplete manner ; calming the imagina- 
tion, by constraining and regulating its movements ; pre- 
venting or correcting the wanderings, which are sometimes 
so grave and fatal, of an exaltation which was in its origin, 
perhaps, innocent ; alone enabling us to know, whether, in 
the contemplations that have given us so much delight, 
truths and sentiments have really penetrated the depth of 
our soul, and struck root. Nothing can so well remedy the 
diseases of the heart, and prevent the access of a sombre, 
discouraging melancholy, as the practice of duty. We 
often find ourselves incapable of thinking and feeling. Let 
us then act; let us do good, and our sleeping faculties will 
awake, fall of vigor. There are, besides, in the notions of 
duty, conditions which can only be well comprehended by 
those who have tried to accomplish it. It is upon the solid 
ground of practice, that we measure difficulties, discover 
obstacles, and learn the strength and force of motives. By 
this we succeed in knowing ourselves well, for in this we 
prove ourselves ; and also we find preservatives against the 
illusions of vanity, which too often are favored by contem- 
plative habits. After having done good, we return to the 
study of the laws of excellence with new ardor ; we bring 
to meditation greater serenity, and reap from it the suffrage 
of conscience. He, who is engaged in vice, perseveres 
in it, because he has blinded himself; but he, who is en- 
20* 



234 SELF-EDUCATION. 

gaged in virtue, perseveres in it, because he becomes more 
enlightened. He, who perseveres in vice, often mourns for 
it, and disapproves his own weakness ; yet yields, as if 
carried away by a mechanical and foreign force. He, who 
perseveres in virtue, always loves it more and more, and 
congratulates himself continually on having chosen the good 
part. The chains of the former multiply and increase in 
weight ; the latter gradually obtains a more perfect liberty. 
If we reflect upon the nature of the obstacles, which re- 
move so great a number of men from moral meditation ; we 
shall perceive, that these obstacles do not proceed, as in 
scientific and philosophical meditations, from the nature of 
things ; but from their own negligence and frivolity. Moral 
notions are not, like the speculations of science, composed 
of those abstract deductions and vast combinations which 
exceed the reach of ordinary minds. They are near, famil- 
iar, simple. We are not called on to create them, we need 
only recognise them. Moreover, we shall recognise them, 
not by extraordinary efforts, but by self-recollection and 
good faith. Hence it follows that no man, whatever may 
be his condition, is really excluded from these exercises, or, 
consequently, from the advantages they provide for our pro- 
gress. The maxims of the early sages, which have been 
transmitted to us by the most ancient traditions, attest that 
in the infancy of civilization, there were profound medita- 
tions upon the truths which relate to human destiny. We 
sometimes meet, in the most obscure conditions of society, 
with individuals, who, although they have little acquired 
knowledge, have yet drawn from meditation astonishing 
lio-ht; and who (thanks to this internal education) speak 
the language of virtue, better than the people of the world, 
who are so vain of their knowledge. Those simple and 
respectable men, do not perhaps communicate their medi- 
tations : perhaps they cannot; they have not meditated by 
rule, and according to form ; but they have contracted the 
habit of descending into the depths of their own hearts with 



MAXIMS AND RULES. 235 

perfect uprightness. They have not been turned from the 
study of themselves, by the distractions of vanity, and by 
the tumult of the world. They have learned much in a 
short time, under the teachings of meditation, — the great 
instructer of men. They have learned enough to know 
excellence, and to love it. 



CHAPTER V. 



MAXIMS AND RULES. 



* Love,' said the wise man, ' o,ncl do ivhat you will.' Hap- 
py he who understands this wise saying ! It will preclude 
the necessity of any other precept, for it gives the source of 
Law : and he who has it within himself, will not only under- 
stand the law, but possess the power of will necessary for 
its accomplishment, rendering its execution pleasant and 
easy. Morality is nothing but this great maxim fully devel- 
oped and applied. But we must already have arrived at a 
high degree of perfection to conceive its value, and to be 
able to give ourselves up to it without danger. The neophyte 
of virtue would only find in it the source of a presumptuous 
illusion : extravagant minds v/ould easily find in it a pre- 
text to justify their aberrations : men, whose morality is 
entirely speculative, and who mistake ecstasies for virtues, 
would think themselves authorized by it to become confirm- 
ed in their sluggish indolence; and they would draw from 
it food for their vanity. But if the words, ' Love, and do 
what you will,' cannot to most men supply the place of an 
explicit code of duties, they ought, at least, to be inscribed 
at the head of the code ; to be repeated in every page of it ; 
to sum it up and serve as its commentary. 



236 SELF-EDUCATION. 

There is something in our intellect and in our hearts^ 
that corresponds to the Law of Excellence. Our heart per- 
suades us, our intellect commands us to observe it ; the latter 
offering us the archetype of the action, and the former 
directing us towards it as the end. The soul more fully 
understands the law, and is more inclined to fulfill it, in pro- 
portion as we succeed better in satisfying this double condi- 
tion in the expression which promulgates the law. It is 
thus that the maxim. Love, and do loliat you will, may serve 
as a commentary on duty. The very object of the exercise 
of meditation, is to unite these two conditions, and to give 
the understanding of Law, by penetrating our minds with 
Love ; thus, connecting our practice with our motives, and 
exciting and enlightening at once that Love which is called 
upon to accomplish it. 

Indeed, the motives, which recommend the accomplish- 
ment of duty, never present themselves in an immediate 
and instantaneous manner, excepting when duty itself is 
expressed under the most general form ; they become less 
sensible in proportion as we descend to particular applica- 
tions, and thus remove ourselves from the principle. It is 
the part of meditation to fill up this interval, to renew the 
chain, and to bring the primitive light of motives to the 
most familiar applications. 

As long as the expression of duty preserves that generali- 
ty, which permits it to address itself immediately to the 
conviction of the mind and the feelings of the heart, this 
expression is a simple ma?:im. Y/hen, descending from this 
generality to practice, duty is described in detail, its expres- 
sion becomes more decidedly a rule. 

We see beforehand what must be the utility and the in- 
convenience both of maxims and rules, and how much it is 
to be desired, for the interest of moral progress, that they 
should be as closely connected as possible. Fundamental 
maxims in morality have this admirable privilege, that they 
are of themselves luminous and eloquent ; they have the 



MAXIMS AND RULES. 



237 



evidence of axioms, and are addressed to the inmost facul- 
ties of the heart. They neither need to be justfied by a dis- 
play of logical argument, nor aided by any oratorical arti- 
fice. On the contrary, the more simplicity they preserve in 
their expression, the deeper will be the conviction they pro- 
duce. 

In the midst of a collection of individuals of every rank, 
sex, and age, having nothing in common but the general 
qualities of the human race, but attentive, and for a moment 
free from passion, and exempt from outward distraction, 
let one of these eternal, universal maxims suddenly be pre- 
sented in all its purity, as yet without any application, and 
strong in its truth alone ; and what an echo it wakes 
in every soul ! With what unanimous and spontaneous 
consent it is received ! What a transport of admiration, 
what persuasion greets it, even before reflection has been 
able to foresee its consequences! What homage is paid 
to it even by those who would not perhaps accept the conse- 
quences, if they imposed any sacrifice upon them ! With 
what a sincere and profound feeling they attach themselves 
to it! Its triumph is the more complete, in proportion to 
the perfect simplicity of its language, and the faithfulness 
of its expression. Even the frivolous multitude, strangers 
to the meditations of wisdom, when freed from the dominion 
of their prejudices, may for a moment meet, and understand 
the good, if thus unexpectedly called to the light of truth 
and to natural feelings. 

For the most ignorant classes of society, there are a great 
number of apothegms, transmitted and received by univer- 
sal consent, which exert a natural influence over men, 
derived from the intrinsic evidence of the moral sentiment 
which they contain. The ideas, which are thus transferred 
into formulas, show themselves as primitive truths, which 
are the better understood in that they are not accompanied 
with demonstrations, and commentaries, and scholastic 
display. This is the philosophy of the people, and its axioms 



238 SELF-EDUCATION. 

sometimes contain a very deep meaning. It was the lan- 
guage of morality with the first sages of antiquity. It was 
the form of the codes traced for rising civilization, by the 
Gymnosophists of Asia, the Greek Gnomics, and in the sa- 
cred books of all nations. The image of excellence is re- 
produced in these common maxims as in a faithful mirror ; 
being manifested in the most natural forms, free from all 
foreign illusions, and pure as it comes from the depth of 
the human conscience. It is recognised, and applauded at 
sight. 

It is these primitive maxims, which give out, in solitary 
meditation, such abundant light, and which become the 
objects of such rapturous contemplation. These are the 
eternal maxims, which shed so bright a glory, both when- 
they appear in philosophical productions, and when poetry 
or oratorical art has the happiness to seize upon them. Let 
us always observe, that the impression they produce is so far 
from being the effect of the artifices of style, that their sim- 
ple presence gives to style itself its power : the impression 
produced is always deep, in proportion as the discourse, like 
a perfectly transparent medium, is faithful to truth. 

In a word, these maxims, which express the original no- 
tions of excellence, are, as it were, a rallying point for the 
human race ; they are like the remembrances of a common, 
country. When we meet with these truths, so familiar and 
yet always so engaging, we experience a sensation like that 
of a friend who receives a friend, or of a disciple who finds 
his master. 

But on account of this extremely general and absolute 
character, which renders them so luminous and fruitful, 
primitive maxims sometimes become extremely dangerous. 
Contemplative minds entrench and shut themselves up in 
them, so as to dispense with acting ; disdaining, perhaps, 
in the movements of a foolish pride, the modest observances 
of practice. Necessarily presented in an abstract form, 
they may be wrongly understoqd 5 without applications, audi 



MAXIMS AND RULES. 239 

adopted precipitately, they may be unseasonably invoked, 
and be employed in a wrong way. We shall sometimes be 
more dazzled than guided by the glory they spread around 
them. The enthusiasm which they have the power of ex- 
citing, will too often end by leading astray those who believe 
they may trust to them alone. The danger will increase, 
in proportion as those to whom they are offered are less 
informed, less exercised in reflection, and especially as they 
are less used to observation, and less fortified by experience. 
Ignorance seizes with extreme eagerness upon instruments, 
which seem to have an equally prompt and universal utility. 
Fanaticism ardently takes possession of arms, which it can 
so well make to serve its cause. The logic of the passions 
has a marvellous art of drawing from the purest maxim the 
consequences which these desire. How many of these noble 
and true axioms we might quote, which have perhaps been 
inscribed upon the banners that a mad crowd has followed 
in its fury, and which, in the very midst of this strange pro- 
fanation, were yet honestly invoked ; 

Special rules and positive precepts escape such danger, 
and even prevent it when seasonably employed, by becom- 
ing like so many ramparts. Placed at the other extremity 
of the chain of ideas, they always express the mode of some 
special and precise action, and often all its circumstances of 
time and place. They thus leave but a very limited field to 
reflection. They extend the imperative formula to the 
smallest details ; they foresee and mark out every thing 
in advance. Even in that they are useful ; they offer to our 
ever weak, uncertain, and tottering will a fixed and sure 
support ; they mark out for it the formula for its determina- 
tions ; they have a rigidity, which resists the changeable- 
ness of circumstances and of our temper. Rules are all 
stamped with the character of authority which belongs to the 
moral law ; they instruct while commanding. Rules are 
connected with habits ; they take their form and have their 
tenacity. By placing themselves in certain circumstances 



240 SELF-EDUCATION. 

of time and place, by taking possession of the minutest de- 
tails, they contract a precision, a rigor, and an exactness, 
which prevent uncertainty and hesitation ; they leave no 
room for discussion ; they so circumscribe activity, that they 
render error unlikely in proportion as they are wisely con- 
ceived : thus they give extreme security to those who ob- 
serve them. Rules for human activity are what the square 
and compass are to the hand of the workman. 

Yet, special rules, by multiplying, and descending more 
and more to applications, and by seeking to foresee every 
thing, contract a dryness, which ordinarily accompanies all 
didactic preparation. Though they make the language of 
Law understood, they have little eloquence in expressing 
sentiment : they define better than explain, and prescribe 
better than they persuade. They more easily seize upon 
the external life, than penetrate into the secrets of the soul. 
Precise and energetic, when there is occasion to forbid what 
is evil and command what is just, their language is less 
rich and clear, when there is need of encouraging us to 
better things: they impose fidelity and duty more than 
they inspire zeal for virtue. In proportion as the rule be- 
comes more particular, it is removed farther from the com- 
mon focus of light ; its motives become also less percepti- 
ble ; and it then takes an appearance of arbitrariness in its 
language. The employment of it appears more easy because 
it is more immediate; but we comprehend it less clearly by 
employing it. Rules sometimes favor want of reflection ; 
we trust to them blindly ; we take little care to confine 
them to the cases for which they have been made ; we are 
led to grant them a greater value than they deserve ; we 
darkly perceive the bond which exists between them, the 
subordination they should observe, and the relations by 
which they are modified. They become constraints rather 
than guides. We thus in reality, impose upon ourselves 
numerous observances, rather than exercise ourselves in real 
virtues ; we hold to them from a kind of habit, rather than 



MAXIMS AND RULES. 241 

from a sincere conviction. How many people would rather 
abandon a principle of morality than the particular rule they 
have made for themselves ! Thus the moral sentiment is 
weakened although duties are multiplied. 

Rules are very agreeable to those who love to command, 
to judge, and condemn : we always have rules for others, 
even when we have none for our own use. 

We often place ourselves behind rules as behind a ram- 
part, in order to defend ourselves against generous solicita- 
tions : we find or create rules, which would render all great 
actions impossible. 

We often have rules so as to dispense with reflecting, as 
well as to dispense with studying. 

Examples explain the rule ; but it is not one example 
only, which gives the true explanation : it may give it 
falsely, by presenting it incomplete. A selection of examples 
is required that it may be shown under every aspect, and 
may be restrained within its just limits. 

There are many rules which are to moral progress, what 
scaffolding is to the construction of monuments, which, 
though necessary while the edifice is raising, should disap- 
pear when it is raised. 

Sometimes the persons who impose upon themselves the 
most rules, are precisely those who have the least need of 
them ; they dictate to themselves what they have to do, when 
they might do it naturally, from the mere impulse of their 
heart : by wishing to foresee every thing, they take away 
the ease necessary for acting ; they lose sight of the chief 
end, by being absorbed in accessory means : it might be 
said that they embrace virtue less than they have been en- 
chained by it. 

The practice of excellence ought to breathe freedom and 
not feel constraint. 

There is one rule prior to all others : it is, to rest in na- 
ture. 

21 



242 SELF-EDUCATION. 



CHAPTER VI. 



USE OF ALLEGORIES ; REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 

As maxims include motives, and rules involve applica- 
tions, the art of moral education consists in quickening and 
enlightening rules by maxims, and giving reality and fruit- 
fulness to maxims by means of rules. 

Allegories and symbols may disguise the austerity of 
rules, or supply the place of demonstrating their motives ; 
and to awaken the capacity for feeling motives, or to give 
them greater power, we may have recourse to rewards and 
punishments. 

Each of these means is good, with certain restrictions, 
and may be usefully employed, if not abused; but they are 
susceptible of great abuse. 

Let us not scorn nor neglect any of the means adapted to 
second the instructions of virtue, to favor our understanding 
of them, or to render them more agreeable. Virtue has its • 
poetry, sublime and enchanting, by which it reconciles hu- 
manity to its culture, by which it animates and embellishes 
our earthly existence ! The employment of allegory is a 
useful regimen in the moral novitiate of man. The apo- 
logue and fable were the first treatises on morality. In the 
infancy of civilization, allegory served as the minister and in- 
terpreter of the laws of duty, promulgating them in society, 
instituting rites, ceremonies, emblems, and various symbols, 
by which are painted and personified those sacred and sublime 
ideas, which, in their purely abstract form could not have 
been comprehended, and certainly would not have left on 
the soul any deep impression. The learned have discover- 
ed in the symbols of ancient worship, the expression of much 
astronomical, agricultural, and historical knowledge ; phi- 
losophers have discovered in them the primitive notions of 



ALLEGORIES. 243 

morality, clothed in a costume calculated to conciliate the 
respect of the people. Morality, no less than religion, has, 
as it were, an external form of worship. This form consists 
in the natural or conventional signs, which address the im- 
agination of men, especially when they are collected togeth- 
er ; and which awaken ideas, that may preserve the senti- 
ments of patriotism, honor, fidelity, courage, respect: such 
are, for example, the peculiar dress of magistrates, and the 
standards displayed at the head of armies. And these insig- 
nia are more powerful in proportion to their simplicity ; be- 
cause simple forms are less liable to obscure the ideas in 
Avhich they originated. In well governed states, where the 
usages of antiquity have been retained, where public man- 
ners bear the impressof past times, men breathe, walk, com- 
municate with each other, in the midst of symbols, which 
recall the maxims of private and public morality. So the pro 
prieties of life are a sort of familiar language, which mani 
fest the maxims generally recognised in society, and express, 
besides, the formulas of customs and in external manners. 

The apologue plays, in the infancy of an individual, the 
same part as in the infancy of society. A thousand means, 
which we know too little, and neglect too much, offer them- 
selves to a skilful instructor, by which he may surround his 
pupil with symbols fit to cherish moral sentiments in the 
youthful heart. It is because the proprieties of life are too 
Jittle cultivated in public establishments of education, that 
there is a grossness of manners so often contracted in youth. 
But this moral regimen of allegories, which is intended to 
second the authority of maxims, may be exaggerated and 
abused. It is intended as a preparation for early youth, to 
enlighten its ignorance and sustain its feebleness ; but it 
may be prolonged till it makes the mind puerile. There is 
0, time when emblems should give place to truth in its own 
imposing majesty and naked simplicity. The habit of always 
seeing truth in emblematic figures, would produce ener- 
yatioa of mind, apd |;he sternness and gravity of duty would 



244 SELF-EDUCATIUN. 

not be fully conceived and felt. Sometimes it has been the 
case, that habit has degenerated into superstition, and the 
symbol has practically occupied the rank due only to the ideas 
represented. So, also, do we not see people become really 
mean, in order to obtain the insignia of honor 1 Allegories 
also have a disadvantage peculiar to themselves. Vivid im- 
ages give vague and incomplete definitions, that only approx- 
imate the meaning, and consequently often favor error, be- 
side exciting imagination and giving scope to the illusions 
of mental rashness. Thus morality, vi^hich ought to have its 
root in reality, and only needs to be revived now and then 
by the inspiring breath of poetry, neglects the practice of 
positive duties, and excuses itself for culpable negligence by 
the worship it renders to the ideal of virtue, in reveries full 
of beauty. 

There are certain times, in some countries, when moral 
sentiment seems to be exhausted ; ancient symbols lose their 
magical power ; and tradition, despoiled of its charms, be- 
gins to weary the mind. Then moral truths, if offered in 
their simplicity, experience a cold reception, and are accus- 
ed of being trite and superannuated. Men are fatigued 
at always returning to them, and finding them eternally the 
same: they wish them to be made new. It is necessary, 
in order to satisfy a frivolous and foolish public, to invent 
various and artificial combinations, by means of which they 
may attract attention and reanimate interest : it is necessa- 
ry to bring to their aid all the resources of the dramatic 
art: truth must have an ingenious setting forth, its charac- 
ter be disguised, and a sort of an apology made for it ; and 
instruction must come with an agreeable air, as if it wished 
to please. This is a shameful slavery from which the minis- 
ters of morality should hasten to make it free ; and from 
which it would not hesitate to free itself, if the ambition of 
vanity did not conspire with the indifference of the public. 
Let us brave the disdain of a world avaricious of pleasure, 
and not condemn virtue to blush for itself. Instead of solicit- 



ALLEGORIES. 245 

ing the suffrages of the vulgar by a cowardly adulation, le 
us speak with a just and severe authority, with the authori- 
ty which we receive from our commission. Let us present 
the holy maxims of excellence, clothed in simplicity, and 
express with dignity the freedom which profound conviction 
inspires. Let us not despair of our age, but afford by the 
simplicity of our discourse a pledge of esteem to our audi- 
tors. We shall find auditors alive to this testimony and 
capable of answering to it. 

The employment of rewards and punishments, if under- 
stood, has a much more direct analogy than one would 
think, with the employment of allegorical signs. For re- 
wards and punishments are essentially destined to recall and 
make to be felt the laws of duty, and to give life to the motives 
which justify them. In order that they may be useful, they 
should be limited to this : it is a sad mistake when they 
come to take the place of the motives themselves. All the 
morality of human actions is destroyed, its vital principle, at 
least, is destroyed, in its original source, if we conceive only 
of good as an action rewarded, of evil as an action punished. 
It is then personal interest alone, in all its nakedness, that 
usurps the seat of virtue, even in the accomplishment of 
what virtue prescribes. There is no longer good nor evil, 
merit nor demerit ; but only a desire of enjoying, a fear of 
suffering, — a calculation of interest : the good man is only 
the most skilful calculator. There is no longer morality 
or justice, but only a vile selfishness reigning in different 
forms, accompanied by its two odious ministers, avarice and 
fear. When this is so, let the terms punishment and rec- 
ompense be employed no longer ; for the ideas they ex- 
press have disappeared : nothing is left but a bargain between 
him who commands, and him who obeys in order to obtain 
or to avoid something, or disobeys if he can obtain some- 
thing better. He only merits rewards, who would have done 
his duty in the face of persecution ; and he deserves punish- 
21* 



246 SELF-EDUCATION. 

ment who has abstained from evil merely to avoid pain, but 
owns the intention of it in his heart. 

Nothing, therefore, can be more fatal than a system of 
rewards and punishments, so combined that remuneration 
takes the place of moral sentiment, and becomes the only 
motive of determination. It is the object of morality to 
repress the blind desire of enjoyment, and arm the soul with 
a courageous resistance against pain and danger. But this 
sytem both intoxicates and degrades the mind ; — intoxicates 
the mind, by making all-availing the hope of recompense 
which it promises ; — degrades it, by giving new power to the 
apprehension of punishment. As soon as there is nothing 
acknowledged beyond, in reward and punishment, all the 
means of obtaining the one and avoiding the other will be 
sought and found out; and at less expense than at the sac- 
rifice of personal inclinations. Success, v/hen obtained, 
will produce greater faithfulness to this instruction ; and 
where there is ability and audacity, fortunate and powerful 
villany may be the result. And why would not this be hon- 
orable ? The external advantage is obtained in which all 
merit consists. Precisely the effect that despotism produces 
on the general character of a people, the caprices of an 
instructer produce on the character of a pupil. Punish- 
ments and rewards become arbitrary, and take the place of 
law and duty. The sentiment of justice, if it resists the in- 
fluence of false instruction, revolts against the employment 
of a force that favors some and oppresses others ; so that 
men, if they are not degraded, resist, and resist even what 
is good in itself, because, they have conceived it as an odi- 
ous yoke. Thus every generous movement is stifled in its 
principle, or else directed against the authority, which has 
misconceived its vocation and abused its power. 

And this effect, which results absolutely from punish- 
ments and rewards, which are arbitrary, takes place also 
in a degree, when rewards and punishments are dispropor- 
tionate to the real merit and demerit of the actions. 



ALLEGORIES. 247 

But if the employment of rewards and punishments is so 
conceived, that they both serve to bring the mind and heart 
to the knowledge of the sentiment of duty, they become an 
energetic language, a mode of instruction which is salutary, 
in proportion as, instead of violating the notions of duty, it 
makes them more palpable. This end may be obtained, if 
an exact relation is observed between the real merit of ac- 
tions, and their recompense ; and if the selection of rewards 
and punishments preserves analogy with the moral notions 
whose awakening they should favor. Rewards and punish- 
ments, borrowed from the pleasures and pains of the senses, 
are the least proper to fulfill this destination. It is to be 
feared, that they favor the inclinations of sensuality, rather 
than enliven the love of virtue. Solitude, on the contrary, 
when used as punishment, disposes to contemplation, and 
through contemplation to reflection; and labor gives me- 
thodical and regular habits. Testimonies of esteem, how- 
ever, are the best modes of remuneration ; for by these, 
merit and demerit take a sensible form, which renders the 
notions, on which they are founded, more deep, and the 
remembrance of them more durable. When we behold a 
crime, or a noble action, a natural emotion makes us ex- 
press a wish to see the one chastised and the other reward- 
ed : the same emotion carries us from the consequence 
to the principle, from the application to the rule, if indeed 
any evident connexion subsists between them. There is 
no one, who, in retracing the recollections of youth, does 
not recognise, that if on some occasions an unexpected re- 
ward has nourished vanity, and an arbitrary punishment in 
other instances has irritated his character, yet on some oc- 
casions, a punishment, of which we perceived the justice, 
and a reward, which was merited, have given to the sen- 
timent of duty great power : the former, by lending to duty 
a severer language, which roused repentance ; the latter 
by giving to it joyousness ; both giving to it a solemnity 
which takes frivolty captive, a seriousness which ripens rea- 
son. 



248 SELF-EDUCATION. 

This serious and solemn, though silent language, destined 
to repress too ardent passions and encourage yet feeble vir- 
tues, suits particularly well the moral youth of man ; and 
yet, at this time, it is not well comprehended. Indeed, 
when it is well understood, it is generally least necessary. 

But the views which ought to guide the instructer and 
legislator, in the creation of a system of rewards and pun- 
ishments, are those which ought to guide us in self-educa- 
tion, in the choice of the motives we are to draw from the 
anticipation of rewards and punishments. We must look 
on them as a kind of language, and avoid the gross error 
of taking them as principles of determination. We must 
seek them as a support, not as a yoke. This truth is sus- 
ceptible of great developement, and should be a subject of 
much thought. To conclude : — allegories and symbols, 
as well as the influence of rewards and punishments, are 
useful as long as they accompany, comment upon, and sec- 
ond the direct teaching of moral truths; but they will be- 
come fatal when they pretend to supply their place. 



CHAPTER VII. 



TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 



Although it may not be granted to man to attain per- 
fection, it is his destiny to direct himself towards it, and td 
approach it without ceasing. It is by this characteristic' 
trait that we recognise the noble and elevated. Their eyes 
are ever directed upward ; their march is constantly pro- 
gressive ; they have before them an indefinite career. Thus 
they preserve an immortal youth, and their life is animated 
by a powerful interest, and embellished by a high hope. 

It is the characteristic of mediocrity in morals, as well 
as in the arts, to be satisfied with itself, and to see nothing 



TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 249 

beyond its own narrow limits. Troubled by the presence 
of what is superior, and alarmed by counsels which excite 
to progress, vulgar souls seek security in inaction, felicity 
in torpor ; having a thousand pretexts for forbidding them«- 
selves all progress that would be accompanied with an ef- 
fort. Sometimes they even affect a sort of disdain for what 
is distinguished, in order to console their vanity, while 
yielding to their effeminacy. They have genius only to 
conceive impossibilities, eloquence only to celebrate obsta- 
cles, and they profess a sort of worship for limitations. The 
stationary condition, in the eyes of certain people, is the 
ideal of prudence and wisdom. They confound immobility 
with perseverance ; condemn all progress as temerity ; all 
hope as an illusion. Thus they establish, shut up, and im- 
prison themselves, in an existence in some sort entirely 
mechanical, in which the only reason for acting, is to con- 
tinue what they have begun to do, in which they confirm 
and encourage themselves in their errors, faults, and weak- 
nesses, as if an irrevocable sentence had condemned them 
never to be free. Thus every thing is cooled, coagulated, 
paralysed : man passes as it were into ths fossil state ; the 
very good he does, loses its charm ; habits take the place 
of sentiments ; routine dispenses with resolutions. 

Men, thus carried on without acting, turn constantly in 
the same circle, and feel no need of motives. But though 
we think to remain stationary in morals, there is no moral 
condition really so ; and he who does not advance, goes 
back ; for every day brings with it losses, which demand 
to be compensated by acquisitions ; and we can only be 
supported by a spirit of life, which tends to constant regen- 
eration. Indifference is certain failure. As the learned 
man when he learns no more, already forgets, so when men 
continue to act externally in the same manner, but no longer 
continue to carry the same sentiment into their actions, with 
sirriilar conduct, they no longer have the same merit. Let 
us examine this treaty, which we form with moral medioc- 



250 SELF-EDUCATION. 

rity, and ask ourselves what we do; what we mean; what 
we expect; what idea we have conceived of our destiny; 
whether we have a destiny ; whether we feel within us a 
voice which invites us to self-esteem, and calls upon us 
to grow and become more elevated. We think ourselves 
estimable. We are regular, perhaps, but we are not truly 
virtuous. We imprudently think to enjoy security. If 
new circumstances occur, what guide will direct us? If 
unforeseen difficulties spring up in our path, how shall we 
know how to conquer them 1 May God preserve us from 
the great vicissitudes of fate, from strong temptations and 
perilous situations ! 

The Love of Excellence cannot be subjected thus to a 
rigorous and fixed measurement : it is in its nature active, 
expansive, thirsting for conquests. To declare that we 
have prescribed limits, which we will not overpass, is to 
confess that we do not feel for excellence true love: it is 
contradicting ourselves. To declare that we will stop at a 
given point in the career, is to confess that we have not 
known the true motives, which should alreg,dy have Jedi 
even to that point; if they had been understood and feltj wq 
should be impelled to pass beyond it. 

Far from being frightened at this tendency to the best, 
as at an excessive fatigue, we should soon acknowledge, 
from our own experience, that the practice of duty becomes 
more easy and pleasant, in proportion as we advance towards 
excellence. For that inward peace, which is the fruit of 
virtuous habits and the sweet privilege of innocence of hearty 
is in its turn most favorable to our knowing, feeling, and 
practising all that is excellent. It is tQ the cowardly 
and lukewarm that duty becomes a yoke. Such is the closa 
relation which exists among all the virtues, that each of 
them in proportion as it is acquired, invites and calls upou 
its companions, and lends them its support. Progress itself 
also preserves in the heart of man an inexpressible jqy aqd 
hilarity, which redouble' his strength, dispose him for new 



TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 251 

undertakings, and aid him in their accomplishment. It is 
in the monotony of an existence without an aim, that we 
find lassitude. The activity of an existence consecrated to 
the search after excellence, finds in itself its encouragement 
and reward. The higher a man rises into moral regions, 
the more he sees his horizon extend : from the summits 
which rise before him, come at once strength and light. 

Great things are never accomplished without the passions; 
but it is only one passion which gives the means of executing 
them, certainly, completely, and constantly ; the passion for 
Excellence. The tendency to the best, is to virtue, what 
the spirit of invention is to the arts. 

There has been much dispute upon the questions which 
appertain to the ideal, and upon the part" which it has in 
human operations ; and as it almost always happens, these 
discussions have perhaps thickened the clouds, instead of 
dissipating them. The ideal has been opposed to the real : 
hence the disdain of some men for the instructions of expe- 
rience, and the reproaches made by others to all which bears 
the character of improvement, as if improvement were a vain 
chimera. But the ideal, conceived in its true nature, is not 
at war with the real ; it is related to it by a double alliance ; 
it borrows from it elements ; it calls upon it ; it is instructed 
by it ; it serves to elaborate it. 

To all active, intelligent, and free beings, copies and 
models are necessary, in which the action is sketched be- 
forehand ; and Avithout which the action itself would be 
impossible. If what is to be done has already been done 
by another agent in the presence of him who is about to 
repeat it, the model is an object of the senses ; it is perceiv' 
ed, and not conceived. But the novelty of situations, 
brought about by the continual change of circumstances, 
would alone be sufficient to require a great number of oper- 
ations, which have not, in actual reality, any model abso- 
lutely similar. There are then also copies and types, exist- 
ing as yet only in the region of ideas, and which are the 



252 SELF-EDUCATION. 

anticipated image of the act to be produced. In the simple' 
mechanical arts we may make the same remark and the 
same distinction ; the workman sometimes copies a work 
which he has before his eyes ; sometimes he conceives the 
image of an instrument or production which has not yet been 
executed. In the arts, which we call the imitative arts, 
there are also models drawn from observation, and models 
which are truly archetypes : however, these last have two 
conditions ; they are obliged to draw from real nature the 
elements of their combinations ; and they must conform to 
certain rules of proportion, suitableness, and probability, 
revealed tons by the sentiment of the beautiful, itself in- 
spired by nature, and carefully taught us by numerous and 
luminous examples in the works of nature. Under the in- 
spiration of this sentiment, the imitative arts take from real 
objects, various beauties, choose from among them, and 
form new combinations : and an image of the whole, intel- 
lectually constructed, becomes the archetype of the execu- 
tion. If the imitative arts were deprived of this second 
order of models, they would confine themselves to simple 
descriptions, and execute only cold copies ; on the contrary, 
by the aid of this second order of models, they call moral 
nature to their assistance, combining its phenomena with 
those of sensible nature ; and the effects obtained become 
the more admirable, because by borrowing from these two 
regions of nature, what is most eminent in each, they have 
known better how to preserve the most perfect union and the 
closest sympathy between the elements drawn from both. 
The positive sciences offer us something similar. They have 
their direct observations, which collect and register facts as 
they present themselves ; they have also their experiments, 
the idea of which is a pure conception, and by the aid of 
which they interrogate nature, and extract from it new phe- 
nomena. It is to these happy experiments that the most 
precious discoveries are owing. Mathematics are in rela- 
tion to mechanics and other branches of physics, a vast 



TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 253 

collection of copies and archetypes, which go before facts, 
preside over applications, and represent them in the 
thoughts, constituting the ideal of science. Legislation and 
policy, supported upon history, upon the knowledge of the 
human heart, upon the data of local circumstances, trace 
out, to those who govern human affairs, the preconception 
of the directions they are to prescribe to themselves; and, 
to the citizen, those rules of conduct which are written in 
codes. A code of laws is a collection of archetypes, pre- 
sented to society, for those actions which embrace the dif- 
ferent relations of men to each other. Morality in its turn 
has served as a copy and archetype to the political legisla- 
tor. Surely there is nothing more real, nothing better 
founded upon nature ; for morality is only the supreme voice 
of nature, in the heart of man, announcing to him his des- 
tination. Conscience recognises, it does not create moral- 
ity. The rules it has established are produced spontane- 
ously, in view of applications either realized or simply 
conceived. But it is in the power of thought to conceive 
beforehand the image of a multitude of possible actions : to 
each of these the established rules adapt themselves ; the 
fitness, more or less entire, which is found to exist between 
the rules and actions, will compose copies from them, more 
or less complete. The combination which would involve the 
highest degree of fitness, would be the archetype of perfec- 
tion for human nature. This ideal, the genius of virtue 
seeks. The good man, when aspiring to the best, does 
nothing but repeat, in morals, what takes place every day 
in the domain of the arts and sciences, in the most simple 
actions of life, and what determines the merit and utility of 
the operations accomplished in these different careers. The 
ideal is to him of the same nature, though in a higher 
region : it is no longer fancied or chimerical : it is only 
more excellent than fact, because it corresponds to what is 
most eminent in the character of humanity. This active and 
persevering tendency towards the best, however wise it may 
22 



254 SELF-EDUCATION. 

be in its principle, has however many secret dangers to avoid. 
The first and greatest of all, is that blind and measureless 
exaltation, which steals from us the feeling of our own weak- 
ness ; and which, while hurrj^ing us towards the phantom 
of ideal perfection, leaves us really unable to accomplish 
the good which is found within our reach. Let the impulse 
by which we are animated be ardent, certainly, let it be 
constant, and indefatigable ; but let it never be unquiet, 
and then it will sustain itself. Let it not even be impatient. 
It is a great act of resignation for a soul kindled by zeal for 
virtue, to consent to acknowledge and suffer the inevitable 
slowness of progress, and to carry to the end of life the 
weight of its own imperfections : but this act of resignation 
is necessary ; it is imposed by the condition of humanity : 
it can alone preserve to us the calmness necessary to see 
well the path which opens before us, and to walk in it with 
a sure step. Let there be a just elevation in the views which 
guide us ! But let them not be lost in the clouds ! Let 
them not be vague and indefinite, as we too often observe 
among those, who, while devoting themselves to excellence, 
confide more in inward sentiments than in positive rules ! 
It happens, then, that the sentiment itself evaporates, and 
becomes lost in speculations purely theoretical, instead of 
being converted into positive applications. The imagina- 
tion, in sweet and sublime ecstasies, feeds upon the most 
exciting prospects ; but the life receives but little influence 
from them : this sentiment becomes a poetry, which charms 
the leisure of idleness ; it is no longer an instrument for 
conduct. 

Lastly, and above all, this tendency must not be given 
up to chance. In the grand work of our amelioration, as 
in all work, method is the fundamental condition of success. 
For advancement in excellence, there is a way traced out 
by prudence, an important and difficult art, which comports 
little with general and absolute rules, because it is modified 
for every one by his own individual dispositions. 



TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 255 

We will begin with what is' most easy ; nothing is more 
prudent and natural. But we will not put off too long at- 
tempting also what is difficult ; for we gain strength only 
by struggling against difficulties. Let us beware of flying 
from them ; let us only take care to graduate them. 

We will begin by satisfying precise and rigorous obliga- 
tions, before proceeding to works of pure supererogation ; 
but let us not forbid ourselves to listen also to the generous 
inspirations, which sometimes invite us to pass beyond the 
strict line of duty ! Often, in accomplishing a noble action, 
we obtain new strength to obey positive precepts : love dis- 
poses to respect, beneficence is an aid to justice. 

We will heg'm by exercising ourselves in the virtues 
which are of most immediate and frequent application. 
These are the most necessary ; they are also those which 
make themselves best understood and felt, and which bring 
with them most powerful encouragements, because we best 
see their results and taste their rewards. It is easy to ro- 
mance upon virtues, which we shall have no occasion to 
apply, and to draw from thence a pretext for neglecting 
those, the daily practice of which is demanded of us : this 
manner of making ourselves virtuous hypothetically, flatters 
at once our idleness and our vanity ; but it deceives the 
wish for improvement, it enervates its principle. Let us 
then apply ourselves to the duties which belong most pecu- 
liarly to our calling, to our situation in life ; duties more 
familiar and less brilliant, but more favorable to our im- 
provement, precisely because they have less attraction for 
self-love. This shows a new and admirable value in those 
family duties, with which Providence has strewed the whole 
course of our lives; as if to give a value to each of our mo- 
ments, as if to consecrate our most habitual and intimate 
relations, as if to change home into a sanctuary of virtue ! 

There are virtues which may be called mother-virtues , 
because they are as it were the main branch of a great num- 
ber of others ; such are, for example, gratitude and justice. 



256 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Let these, then, be the first objects of our ambition and 
efforts : we shall draw from them, beforehand, an under- 
standing and taste for those which are subordinate to them: 
we shall better penetrate into the principles and motives 
which should lead us to excellence : we shall better feel by 
what secret ties our duties are connected together : we shall 
judge better the rank they hold in regard to each other. 

There are virtues, which are like so many sisters, and 
which lend each other mutual assistance : it will be easy for 
us to pass from one to the other. Sometimes also it is use- 
ful to cultivate at the same time virtues which seem to have 
almost opposite characters ; they serve to circumscribe and 
balance each other : we avoid falling into the excess of too 
exclusive habits; we better preserve the harmony of the 
moral faculties. It is thus that the rules of gymnastics 
combine the exercise, which require at once several kinds 
of motions, in order that the organs may be developed in 
harmony, and that no one may obtain exuberant vigor at 
the expense of the others. 

There are virtues which may be considered as instrumen- 
tal, that is to say, which furnish general means, by the aid 
of which others may afterwards be practised ; such are, for 
example, patience and obedience : we should take care to 
furnish ourselves with these beforehand, as much as possi- 
ble, in order to come armed upon the theatre of the combat, 
or the field oflabor. 

We should confine ourselves to removing obstacles before 
we hurry towards the end. We should take precautions 
against danger before we launch into bold undertakings : 
we should repair our losses before we aspire after new ac- 
quisitions. 

In every thing, and this is one of the fundamental max- 
ims upon which reposes the whole system of progressive 
amelioration, we should study ourselves, in order to pene- 
trate the true principles which are to be the motives of our 
duties, as well as those which lead us to recognise the origi- 



TENDENCY TO EXCELLENCE. 257 

^al source of them ; for it is by meditating upon these prin- 
ciples, that we shall discover the relations which exist be- 
tween the virtues, that we shall ourselves obtain the senti- 
ments which, being common to them all, lead from the prac- 
tice of one to the practice of the others. Details become 
easy to him who has seized the whole. Little things also 
have their relative importance, and may even receive a more 
considerable one, under a certain concurrence of circum- 
stances. The elevated have to defend themselves from a 
negligence that is sometimes excessive, in regard to these 
observances of detail. They excuse themselves too easily 
for the little attention they pay to them. Pride may find, 
in this disdain, a secret aliment. It is never allowable to 
attribute to ourselves a moral superiority, which may au- 
thorize voluntary failings, however trifling they may appear. 
The reflection which recognises and confesses them as vol- 
untary, aggravates them ; forgetfulness would have been a 
trifle, but aflfected negligence is a real fault. Besides, little 
things have sometimes extensive consequences, which can- 
not be foreseen, particularly in our relations with other men ; 
a slight imprudence may inflict a deep wound, and cause a 
great disaster. The observance of little things alone gives 
to the work of virtue, as to the productions of the arts, that 
consistent and finished character, which becomes its princi- 
pal and chief ornament : it is to virtue what grace is to the 
arts. The observance of little things invokes the sacred 
and tutelar presence of duty to all the moments of our lives : 
it animates and fills with its influences the whole atmosphere 
which we breathe. It has the advantage of makinor us run 
over a variety of objects, of making us perceive all their 
aspects, and thus lending a happy fruitfulness to moral no- 
tions. There is also a sort of elevation in knowing how to 
preserve a just respect for what is good, even when its image 
is reproduced in a more narrow scene, in knowing how to 
respect ourselves in the most modest and obscure observances, 
provided they are in the established order, and in carrying 
22* 



358 SELF-EDUCATION. 

noble motives even into the least occasions. In short, by 
giving to little things the degree of interest which is due to 
them, we preserve a salutary activity. They are sports, if 
we please, but useful, honorable sports : we shall have the 
happiness of leaving no void, no failure in the labor of moral 
activity : we shall prepare ourselves gradually for the most 
difficult things : we shall have the merit of having conquer- 
ed a difficulty, in binding ourselves to remark and execute 
what might have escaped attention ; but, above all, we shall 
find ourselves naturally led to the continuance of useful 
vigilance over ourselves, and in this single result we shall 
find an indirect and unexpected preservative against a 
crowd of dangers of another kind, which might have been 
more or less serious. The observances of detail are as it 
were sentinels, scattered here and there, to keep us awake, 
and warn us incessantly that in the career of moral amelior- 
ation we are not permitted to taste the repose of idleness 
and lethargy. 



CHAPTER VIIL 

HOW TO ACQUIRE AND PRESERVE SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

Man is born sovereign of himself; but, to enter upon the 
possession of this magnificent gift of Providence, he must 
first feel his right of sovereignty; and secondly, know the 
means of exercising his power. But this twofold discovery 
is slow, and obtained only with difficulty, for it depends 
upon a study, which is usually our last study ; that of self. 
Many men descend to the tomb almost without having sus- 
pected this most noble prerogative of their nature. If, as 
we think we have shown, and as we shall take occasion to 
repeat, self-government is a tutelary law, and not a capri- 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 259 

cious force; if it must be exercised in a wise restraint, in 
an enlightened direction, it requires as its preliminary con- 
dition, that man, in his self-communion, should have, above 
all, a familiar knowledge of himself; that he should know 
how to question, to answer, and to comprehend himself. 
He must have attentively observed the springs applied to 
his disposition, the wants which he has to satisfy, the obsta- 
cles he has to surmount, the dangers he has to avoid, the 
resources he can bring to his aid, and the cautions which 
he should observe. He must know himself, as an instructor 
must know his pupil, as a workman must know the material 
upon which he labors, and the instrument which he employs. 
Thus he may learn to guide himself, — which is the true 
way to command himself; thus he may obtain his own con- 
fidence in sincere and assiduous self-communion. He will 
also learn to foresee and to provide ; to impose upon him- 
self only what he is capable of executing, but to require of 
himself all of which he is indeed capable. He will even 
know how to tolerate and to pardon himself, when it is 
necessary, not through a weak complaisance, but with 
mingled indulgence and severity. He will know how to 
raise himself, to guard himself from discouragement, as well 
as from rashness : sparing himself useless efforts, he will 
thus facilitate useful ones. 

Watchfulness must carry on and preserve the work which 
study of self has begun. Like an active sentinel, our eyes 
must be constantly open, not only upon what happens with- 
out, but upon what passes within. We must observe in 
their origin the secret movements of the heart, in order to 
encourage or check them according to necessity : we must 
assign the precise measure which they must not exceed ; 
taking precautions not only against attack, but also against 
surprise ; and as there is no surprise more dangerous than that 
which borrows the charm of pleasure, we must not only be 
warned of what may wound, but of what may seduce us : 
we shall thus be preserved from the yoke most difficult to 



260 SELF-EDUCATION. 

shake off, — from the yoke we have voluntarily accepted^ 
This watchfulness, it is true, sometimes is wearied, discon- 
certed, and distracted , and is apt to fail, precisely at the 
moment when it is most necessary. It must then be perse- 
vering : but let it not be restless, agitated, and ferocious ,■ 
let it be exercised in a gentle, equable, and uniform manner* 
Let the soul act toward itself, not as an inquisitor, but as a 
witness and confidant; then self-contemplation will be ex- 
ercised with less effort. Let us also avoid as much as pos- 
sible hurrying ourselves into the tumult of distractions ; 
let us avoid too rapid and sudden changes of situation ; 
and let us redouble our attention, when we enter upon a 
new and unknown situation. 

One of the greatest difficulties in the exercise of self-gov'- 
ernment, arises from the singular inequalities sometimes 
experienced in the mental states. We cannot count upon 
ourselves : the state of things upon which we had regulated 
ourselves, sometimes appears so changed, that all our meas- 
ures are found defective ; the resources, which offered them- 
selves to us when we enjoyed serenity, fail us in agitation;: 
the prospects of the practice of excellence, which smiled 
upon us with so many charms, during the course of a peace- 
ful meditation, only discover to us, at other moments, a 
barren country where we perceive nothing but weariness 
to be endured. The more we are inclined to exaltation, 
the more frequent and perceptible these variations become : 
but self-knowledge and inward vigilance sometimes bring 
us back to our level ; the remembrance of past states leads 
us to anticipate those which will come. As in serene and 
prosperous days we view ourselves with too blind a confidence, 
so in cloudy days we are guided and supported by the image 
of happier times. A man governs himself with more ease 
in proportion as he is consistent, just as he governs other 
men with more ease for the same reason. 

However, the prudence of the most consummate wisdom 
is not sufficient for self-government. The exercise of this 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 261 

authority often demands a suitable firmness; and though this 
firmness should be used with reserve, we should be capable 
of employing it when necessary. When the storm growls 
around us, and bursts ; when the tempest increases and 
invades the soul, and all is confusion, our skill is no longer 
sufficient ; we have need of all our intrepidity : the enemy 
assails us on all sides : the inclinations which we condem, 
urge us on, and hurry us away, in spite of ourselves, by 
their impetuosity and violence. Neophytes of virtue, how 
could we think ourselves safe ? Called to an open struggle, 
safety rests only in courage. What now is the part of man ? 
He must he a man ! he must do a difficult but an indispen- 
sable thing ; he must exercise his will freely, decidedly, 
perseveringly. It might be dangerous, in moral adoles- 
cence, to be called to the exercise of our own will, while 
it still wants energy and life; for man, when inexperienced, 
although thinking to exercise his will, often submits to the 
yoke of his inclinations, or to the will of another. But we 
cannot too soon exercise our will, after we are capable of it. 
This education of the will requires a just independence, 
gradually obtained and wisely circumscribed. We cannot 
become men under a prolonged tutelage : and the habit of 
subjection renders us unskilful in the exercise of our own 
will. We are like a slave who thinks himself emancipated, 
when he has only changed his master ; though perhaps he 
has given himself a harder one than he had before. 

It is more important, and unfortunately more difficult, to 
maintain a just correspondence between the energy of our 
will and the extent of our knowledge. If, when the equili- 
brium is lost, the will prevails, we experience only the ir- 
regularity of a force which hurries it on at random ; it can- 
not fail to be enslaved, unknown to itself, having no longer 
any regulator. If the equilibrium is lost in the contrary 
way, we lose ourselves in an idle contemplation, in which 
we despair in view of an end we have not strength to at- 
tain ; the strength which still remains, becoming useless in a 



262 SELF-EDUCATION. 

career so disproportionate. But though inexperience is impa- 
tient to act, experience often leads to indecision. It happens 
then that we ourselves contribute to break this necessary 
equilibrium, by wishing to act before we are enlightened, and 
by being discouraged when we are instructed. The real pow- 
er of the v/ill is in that of reason. Do not let us confound the 
transports of desire with the determinations of the will ; the 
former have usually an impetuosity so much the greater as 
we are not in view of obstacles ; and this impetuosity 
deceives us with regard to the resources we shall find in 
ourselves at the decisive moment. Presumption is the 
daughter of Exaggeration, as well as the mother of Impru- 
dence. If we have counted too much upon our will, it will 
fail us at the decisive moment, and break in the trial. 
There is, however, an art, and it is the art of wisdom, which 
calls knowledge to the assistance of the will, and converts 
it into real strength. To what does the education of the 
will belong, if not to reason ? Would we learn to exercise 
our will with firmness 1 Let us know first how to conceive 
and adopt sincere and profound convictions. Nothing gives 
us decision and support like truth. Let us know how to 
confide in the strength which Providence has provided for 
us. It is proportioned to our task ; but let us not embrace 
beforehand, by a rash foresight, the whole extent of the 
efforts which will be demanded of us : they are not to be 
the work of a single day. When this salutary equilibrium 
is maintained, knowledge, prudently directed, instead of over- 
flowing into the field of impossibility, is circumscribed in the 
sphere of the possible, diffusing itself more abundantly there ; 
and reason rests upon the alliance of practice and theory, 
experience and principles. Thus is composed for every 
one a sort of relative science, in which the information col- 
lected is naturally found in harmony with the efforts which 
are demanded of the character, and in which knowledge 
turns entirely to the profit of action. The judgments of 
reason have in themselves something grave and solemn, 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 263 

which operates at once as a restraint and a support. The 
voice of reason, penetrating the soul, preserves it in our 
esteem, and suggests to it a confidence, which is always 
an element of strength. The will, while collecting the 
emanations of reason, insensibly contracts something of 
that fixedness and immutability, peculiar to the truths by 
which reason is nourished, and thus receives from them a 
natural vigor, more durable in proportion as it is more calm. 
But reason never exercises these salutary influences with 
more success than when it is the interpreter of duty ; then, 
to the dignity and stability of truth is united a power still 
more active; the imperative form which the injunctions of 
duty take, becomes a spring ever ready to second the reso- 
lutions of the will. There is in the focus of conscience a 
secret and concentrated heat, which reanimates the heart, 
as soon as we approach it. The reflective feeling of duty 
is to the will, what the points of support are to mechani- 
cal force. Passionate men may have impetuosity and vehe- 
mence, like the gigantic and convulsive strength of a sick 
man in delirium ; but it is only when man is penetrated with 
his duty, that he has a firm, equal, and constant will. Ob- 
stinacy is inflexible, but inflexibility is not constancy ; 
for a wise and reasonable constancy will bend to the modi- 
fications required by the varieties of circumstances. Con- 
stancy is immutable in principle, flexible in application ; 
while obstinacy is capricious and arbitrary in its very im- 
mobility, for it refuses to follow the natural course of things. 
To renounce a resolution, which is acknowledged to be 
erroneous, or which is no longer adapted to a new situation, 
is to respect one's self, and to exercise self-government. 

There are then two chief ways of obtaining and preserv- 
ing inward^ i^piVjC ; the habit of observing, and the habit of 
conquering;y;^urselves. Every concession which we make 
to effeminacy, to cowardice, to negligence, to discourage- 
ment, in the ordinary course of life, is an abdication of our 
sovereignty ; and we shall find it an impediment to our 
efforts, when we attempt to recover ourselves. 



264 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Difficulties, which we think external, are in reality, if 
they can be surmounted, only the difficulties which we find 
in ourselves. For instance, the difficulty of study arises 
from the weakness of our attention; the difficulty of a peri- 
lous undertaking is the want of the courage which it de- 
mands ; the difficulty of labor is the want of the persever- 
ance it requires. It is always ourselves who are insuffi- 
cient ; and we often find ourselves so, only because we dare 
not attempt all that we are capable of A salutary pre- 
paration, then, for acquiring self-government, is to exercise 
ourselves in struggling against the obstacles, and conquer- 
ing the difficulties, which present themselves in external 
life. Men who are in the habit of triumphing over difficul- 
ties, are the only men who become truly distinguished, as 
they alone discover how much they are truly capable of, and 
take entire possession of their faculties. But to succeed, 
it is necessary to take care not to hurry blindly into underta- 
kings above our strength. It is necessary, as in gymnastic 
exercises, to graduate our effi)rts ; to try by degrees ; to 
attempt undertakings just above those we have been accus- 
tomed to execute. But in casting our eyes upon the world, 
we are surprised to see, on one side, so many people who 
dare not do what they can; and on the other, so many at- 
tempting what they cannot do. 

We may remark, that when the government of ourselves 
escapes us, it is almost always because we have allowed 
ourselves to be concentrated upon the present moment, and 
upon some exclusive impression, which invests us on all 
sides. It is very useful then, in order to preserve our lib- 
erty, and the integrity of our strength, to preserve extensive 
and constant communication, in the past and the future, 
with all that may ofier an alliance to the will ; we thus 
oppose to the predominent impression, the recollections or 
anticipations proper to balance it; we preserve its authority, 
by maintaining an equilibrium of resistance. Elevation of 
sentiments and ideas is of great advantage in self-government. 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 265 

The soul, in order to reign, must sit as it were upon a 
throne, from whose height its eye may extend far into space 
and time. 

Men, who are without affections, sometimes seem to be 
distinguished for their self-government; they are at least 
habitually tranquil. Yet, if an inclination of personal inter- 
est awakes in them with impetuosity, a precious auxiliary is 
wanting. Such men are most easily carried away. Thus, 
we shall preserve so much the better the power of modera- 
ting an affection, which might be inclined to pass its just lim- 
its, by opposing to it more just affections. False minds are 
those which have a single idea ; wandering souls are those 
which yield to a single motive of action. Sound minds and 
free souls range through a variety of ideas and motives. 

Two principal means contribute to the education of the 
moral power of Self-government ; order and calmness. They 
are closely allied. In a confusion of ideas and feelings, 
the government of ourselves infallibly escapes us ; we no 
longer see the end ; we no longer know where to find the 
means ; we can hardly recognise ourselves. In the midst 
of order the direction may be marked; in the bosom of 
calmness the faculties may preserve all their freshness, and 
strength all its liberty. Even when order and calmness 
reign around us, we begin to reap from them a beneficent 
influence. Melody, sympathy, all that transmits to us the 
sweet impressions of harmony, give to our faculties a begin- 
ning of independence. We have from that time a confused 
sentiment of our power and dignity ; we feel ourselves 
capable of greater things, because we acquire the conscious- 
ness of our free will. It is necessary, it is true, to possess 
already some power over ourselves, that we may fulfill this 
double condition ; but it will be the first employment we 
should make of it, because it will prepare for all the others. 
The sculptors of antiquity usually represented heroes in the 
attitude of repose ; they found in calmness the loftiest ex- 
pression of true force. 
23 



^66 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Besides, the care which procures a habit of order and 
calmness, consists generally in foresight and detail, and 
does not always require energetic efforts. It is a daily regi- 
men, and partly a favor of nature, which only needs to be 
preserved. Although we feel the storm ready to burst, 
although we perceive the dark cloud in the horizon, by re- 
doubling our vigilance, we may still attach ourselves to the 
maintenance of order and calmness. Every thing is lost, 
the instant anarchy is introduced within ; while all the 
means of resistance and safety remain to us, if we avoid 
agitation. Sometimes, when the tempest exercises its rava- 
ges with extreme violence, it is prudent and wise to content 
ourselves with furling the sails, remaining as it were inac- 
tive, and mere witnesses of what is passing within us, not 
approving it, but not hazarding open combat, and waiting 
patiently till the storm is appeased. It is enough not to 
yield, and to remain motionless. 

One cause which most frequently prevents us from enjoy- 
ing the power we might obtain over ourselves, is a sort of 
terror we conceive of it, as if it were to impose upon us too 
much restraint, and too painful sacrifices. We hope at 
least to taste a sort of repose, by giving ourselves up to im- 
pulse, and by abandoning ourselves to the current in the 
river of life. This is because we have a false idea of Self- 
government. We have thought it a tyrant, which would 
torment our existence; a sort of continual torture. If we 
dared to make use of it, we should soon perceive that it is 
liberty itself, that it is the only principle of true secu- 
rity. If it demands some inward combats, it is to prevent 
shocks a thousand times more painful ; if it requires the 
vigilance and fatigue of the pilot, it is to prevent the ship 
from breaking against the rocks. The education which 
developes and cultivates this great moral power, has doubt- 
less some hard and painful exercises ; it demands the 
sweat of the brow, but it is not exempt from charms ; it has 
its pleasures, manly and profonnd ; it alone can render us 



STUDY OF SELF. 267 

capable of tasting true repose ; for there is no real repose, 
but that which follows and rewards labor. 



CHAPTER IX. 



OP THE DIFFICULTIES WE MEET WITH IN THE STUDY OF SELF. 

If we only considered how near and intimate is the sub- 
ject of the study of self, we might suppose that of all studies 
it would be the most easy. And since it carries us back to the 
object of our most lively affections, we might think it would 
be most agreeable, and that we should proceed to it by a 
natural impulse. Yet it is precisely the contrary. 

Philosophers have vied with each other in recommending 
to us the study of ourselves, us the first and most essential 
introduction to wisdom. But who has taught us how to 
attain this knowledge, and to triumph over the obstacles that 
we may meet with? 

Some obstacles arise from the very nature of things, some 
from the conditions of our faculties ; and all the causes, 
which ever lead us to error, act with their highest degree 
of influence on this subject : and as if it were not enough 
that we may be deceived in so many ways, we often take 
pleasure in self-deception ; ourselves spreading the snares, 
and too often succeeding in surprising ourselves. 

When the imagination seeks to lead us astray in judg- 
ments relative to external facts, there remain to us means of 
verification, in some sort material, upon the theatre of this 
same external reality, of which it has presented to us an 
unfaithful picture : the image and the reality are situated in 
two different regions : we may oppose them to each other. 
But in the study of ourselves, the image and the reality are 
placad in the same region : they touch and are confounded. 



268 SELF-EDUCATION. 

One takes the place of the other. Sometimes we seem for 
a moment to be what we desire to be ; at other times, we 
seem to be what we fear we may become : our fears and 
our hopes pass from the future into the present; we think 
we can do all that we conceive. This is why enthusiastic 
people are so strangely deluded about themselves, and all in 
such good faith. The idea which they contemplate and 
embrace with such lively ardor is embodied in their eyes; 
they give it an existence ; they personify it ; they persuade 
themselves, in good faith, that they are in immediate rela- 
tion with it : the poem which charms them becomes to them 
a history, — their own history. They see, or think they see 
themselves in the pictures which are their work : they think 
they see themselves act in the phantoms they have created 
and put in motion. 

Will not temper, also, which so changes the aspects of 
external objects, give its peculiar expression to our own 
countenance ; and if it can render us sad and joyous, how 
will it be prevented from creating causes of sadness and joy, 
in the world within, where it has sway ? 

If there are no subjects on which we are more exposed to 
error than those upon which we have some partiality, what 
will not be the danger in a study whose subject interests us 
more than any other in the world? Who can remain 
an indifferent and passive spectator of what is passing 
within himself? Who, having to judge himself, will not 
take his cause in hand, and be his own advocate rather than 
his ov/n judge ? 

It is often the case that the things which we perceive least 
accurately, are those which are most familiar to us, and 
which compose our ordinary routine ; they do not arrest our 
attention or excite our wonder : what is permanent, we for- 
get; we only remark its absence, if it happens to be want- 
ing ; such is the case with all that enters into the system of 
our habits ; now, is there any thing more familiar to us than 
ourselves 1 This is the reason why so many people live without 



STUDY OP SELF. 269 

suspecting that they are in their own society ; at least they 
only pay attention to it, if this moral self, their companion, 
experiences some accident or transformation which may 
excite surprise and give notice of its presence. 

We are full of mysteries: we have both inclinations and 
faculties which we do not suspect, till an unforeseen circum- 
stance points them out. We contain in ourselves the most 
manifest contradictions. The most subtle motives are often 
those which influence our determinations most; they envel- 
ope our will as with a kind of invisible net-work. We may 
feel what we possess, but we do not see what we want. The 
less progress we make, the less we discover what is still 
wanting ; the more we lose, the more we become incapable 
of appreciating the value of our losses. But can we even 
truly estimate what we possess, if we do not know what we 
want? 

Shall we invoke the experience of the past, which can 
alone enable us to observe the present state rightly ? But, 
that the past may be well understood, it is necessary that it 
should have been well observed. When the issue of our 
undertakings enlightens us, it is generally too late to correct 
ourselves. Childhood does not observe at all ; youth ob- 
serves superficially ; when maturity arrives, it is late to be- 
gin the investigation. When will the application of experi- 
ence begin? Besides, there are so many ways of explaining 
want of success, shall we be likely to choose that which 
would reveal to us our faults? 

Shall we call to our aid comparisons ? for in effect we only 
judge truly by comparing. But in comparing ourselves with 
others, rivalry troubles our vision ; the presence of our supe- 
riors humbles us ; that of inferiors puffs us up : in the same 
manner as we are deceived in judging others by ourselves, 
we are also often deceived in judging ourselves by others, 
Hence rash emulation and unskilful imitations. 

Shall we examine ourselves in profound silence and calm- 
ness? Doubtless such is the condition necessary for a true 
23* 



270 SELF-EDUCATION. 

self-examination. Yet on the contrary it is precisely at the 
moment of action that it would be useful to consider our- 
selves with attention; for then our faculties are in play; it 
is on occasions that we really measure our strength, for 
occasion brings with it unexpected resources or obstacles. 
The evils we most feared, the blessings we desired with 
most ardor, are often those which appear the least, when 
they come : the dangers by which we were the least alarmed 
become the most serious. The solitary man thinks he 
knows himself, but he only knows what he is in solitude ; 
and he can foresee less than any other man, what he will 
become in a sphere of activity. We only discern what we 
are in the presence of objects, and then they attract us : 
we must see out of and beyond ourselves, in order to act. 
In proportion as passion is more violent, it is the more 
necessary to observe its transports, but at the same time it 
is so much the more difficult. Shall we invoke the testimo- 
ny of other men? Supposing that they say exactly what 
they think, still, some will exaggerate the good in us, 
through affection or from policy : others the evil from ani- 
mosity or envy. 

The only instrument which we can use for this study, 
reflection, is an instrument which wants fixedness and pre- 
cision ; it slips away, vacillates, is fatigued, shakes and 
trembles in the hand that employs it, and escapes inces- 
santly. 

Besides, if we concentrate ourselves too much upon our- 
selves, we end by seeing nothing, or by seeing all that we 
wish too see. There are abysses, in which we may lose 
ourselves. 

Do we succeed in taking ourselves captive sufficiently to 
make correct observations 1 Already, by that very process, 
an observable change has taken place in our internal 
state. The personage we thought to seize upon and ob- 
serve, is concealed ; he has already disappeared. We judge 
ourselves more soundly when the moment of action has passed 
by. 



STUDY OF SELF, 271 

And our inward state is not only complex, it is also ex- 
tremely changeable. It is necessary that the investigating 
eye should follow it perseveringly through all its phases. 
In this continual change, which moment shall we choose, 
to serve as a rule to our judgment, and to give us an exact 
idea of ourselves? The crisis of exaltation and of discour- 
agement, whose testimony is the most unfaithful, have pre- 
cisely this character, that each of them envelopes us in an 
atmosphere peculiar to itself, represents things as if they 
were to last such as they are now, makes us forget the past, 
and takes possession exclusively of the future. 

In the medley caused by the influences which come to us 
from without, and the reaction which proceeds from within, 
we can hardly distinguish what is derived from these two 
sources. The more we are subjected to external influences, 
the more unable are we to measure what belongs to them. 

In the same manner as vulgar prejudice transfers to 
bodies the colors which affect our eye, the soul refers to ob- 
jects its own peculiar modifications ; we attribute, then, to 
circumstances, what belongs to ourselves. Sometimes on 
the contrary, there are movements within us which are 
transmitted to us, but of which we suppose the cause is in 
ourselves. We think things impossible, because we have not 
dared to attempt them ; we think ourselves capable, because 
we have been assisted. Like the navigator who thinks the 
shore of the river moves, — when we change, we think the 
world changes. We take borrowed qualities for elements 
of our character ; we take habits we have contracted, for 
a condition inherent in our nature ; we attribute to our 
faculties what is due to instruments and circumstances; 
we judge of all situations by those which are known to us. 
And even when we succeed in remarking effects, we in a 
thousand Vv^ays mistake their causes. 

Such are the difficulties, but only in part, for the more 
we study, the more of them we discover. But we have 
supposed a sincere wish to know ourselves. What if this 



272 SELF-EDUCATION. 

wish itself fails ? Where are those in whom it is found 
really entire 1 It is not merely that through frivolity, igno- 
rance, or dissipation, we appear indifferent to the acquisi- 
tion of this fundamental knowledge ; it is not merely that 
we neglect it, that we even avoid to cultivate it, concealing 
ourselves from our own eyes, and flying from ourselves, as 
if we feared our own society, and dared not expose ourselves 
to our own investigations ; often, we go so far as to use 
artifices to surprise ourselves, and to appear to our own 
eyes otherwise than as we are. Sometimes this is to flatter 
or excuse our inclinations ; sometimes to please our own 
self-love and our pride ; sometimes from cowardice ; some- 
times from all these motives together. When the question 
is to satisfy ambition or presumptuous desires, we wish to 
suppose ourselves strong. We no longer confess our strength,, 
when there is a difficult duty to fulfill. We exaggerate in our- 
selves the qualities which appear meritorious. We put out 
of sight those which, by offering a natural assistance, would 
diminish the merit of our efforts. Is it not from this last 
reason, for instance, that every one accuses himself of want 
of memory, while no one accuses himself of want of judg- 
ment? Selfishness wishes to deck its idol. Sensuality wish- 
es to repose, consequently to justify itself; it even wishes to 
exalt itself in its own eyes, to think itself less gross than it 
really is, in order to enjoy still more. We can with diffi- 
culty confess our faults to other men, and we do not like to 
confess them to ourselves ; our own censure would touch 
us more nearly, and pursue us more constantly. Vanity 
and self-love cannot consent to recognise themselves in the 
movements they inspire; for in recognising themselves they 
would be humiliated; they would contradict themselves. 
Since they are only a weakness of character, they must 
disguise themselves, in order to succeed in preserving 
that distinguished attitude to which they pretend. Often, 
while seeking to show ourselves to other men under the 
most favorable point of view, in order to obtain their 



STUDY OF SELF. 273 

approbation or their good will, we may be so penetrated by 
the part we play, as to finish by thinking it serious, and to 
fall into the mistake we have prepared for others ; like an 
actor who should continue to play the comedy alone on his 
own account. Enthusiastic persons, after having begun 
to deceive themselves with the utmost sincerity always 
end by deceiving themselves intentionally. All exaltation, 
changeable in its nature, has intervals of relaxation ; and 
when the exaggeration is calmed, the enthusiastic wish 
still to support the same character; they are not willing to 
agree that they are no longer the same ; they compose for 
themselves a factitious exaltation ; they remove every thing 
which might trouble it; they especially fear a ray of light; 
they condemn themselves to a sort of charlatanry towards 
themselves, and become their own dupes. Something sim- 
ilar may also happen to those who confine their morality to 
speculative contemplations ; they would be troubled in their 
ecstacies by the recollection of their real life, for they are 
too little in unison with their sublime theories. It is neces- 
sary then to find a way to interpret their motives, that their 
actions may no longer offer so shocking a contradiction : 
they persuade themselves that the conceptions of the mind 
have real root in the soul, and reconcile the two personages 
who mutually give each other the lie : this reconciliation 
consists in outward signs and words, and one of these 
two personages deceives the other. 

We have a thousand stratagems by which to succeed in 
these fatal combinations. We put on all sorts of masks to 
deceive ourselves. We are singularly favored, in these 
artifices, by the numerous obstacles which naturally render 
the study of self so difficult. We point out often with rare 
skill the kind of analogy which is found between certain 
good qualities and the faults which correspond to them ; and 
as the latter are only the excess of the former, and belong 
originally to the same generating principle, we shall easily 
succeed in deluding ourselves with regard to the limit that 



274 SELF-EDUCATION, 

separates them. But nothing favors more the illusions 
which lead us astray in the study of ourselves, whether they 
are 'sincere, or arise from our own bad faith, than the mix- 
ture and confusion which we allow to come into the motives 
of our conduct. If we have complicated intentions, we may 
give our actions any explanation, even to ourselves ; for 
there are laudable aims, side by side with those we do not 
like to confess to ourselves. A confusion of sentiments and 
ideas throws a profound obscurity over all within : in this 
darkness we see whatever we desire to see; we create a 
romance upon ourselves ; we want the means of comparing 
it with reality, and consequently of recognising what is 
only pure romance. Besides, the more agreeable it is, the 
more we love to believe it ; and we always end by believing 
what we desire. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE ADVANTAGES THAT MAY BE DRAWN FROM OUR OWN FAULTS* 

Every thing may contribute to our progress, even the 
faults which seem to keep us back ; and of all our means 
of progress, these may become the most useful, since the 
occasions are so constant and general. 

The best men do not escape certain anomalies of charac- 
ter and certain inequalities of disposition : perhaps the most 
distinguished men are the most exposed to these, as they 
possess the most eminent qualities. 

Sometimes the extraordinary flight, which some one of 
the faculties of the heart or mind takes, breaks the equilib- 
rium which ought to reign among them ; sometimes the 
consciousness they have of their intentions, or the feeling 
they have of their strength, inspires in them a too blind 



OUR FAULTS. 



275 



confidence; sometimes they go beyond the end, in aban- 
doning themselves, without reserve and without measure, to 
a movement honorable in its principle ; sometimes their 
attention, absorbed by the efforts which difficult enterprises 
require, neglects to keep watch on other circumstances; 
sometimes they think they may allow themselves some neg- 
ligences, as a sort of indemnity for their sacrifices ; and they 
believe themselves authorized to be less severe upon them- 
selves, on account of the merits they have acquired. 

All of us experience more or less, and suffer from,, these 
vicissitudes. Sometimes we ourselves change, without be- 
ing able to account for it ; sometimes we can go forward 
naturally and without effort ; sometimes we are drawn away 
to what is evil, in spite of ourselves. Holy inspirations come 
and go with the rapidity of light : the soul is elevated, and 
falls down ; wakes up and sleeps again , is kindled by the 
brightness of excellence, is exhausted by too prolonged con- 
templation. We are subject, as it were, to various internal 
maladies, during which we can hardly recognise ourselves; 
then our views are agitated, and our sensibility appears 
extinguished. The more we have tasted of elevated things, 
the more we are discouraged by these failures. To form 
resolutions ; to break or forget them ; to conceive noble 
hopes ; to be beaten down in courage ; to experience gen- 
erous sentiments ; to yield to childish weakness ; to project, 
to essay, to fail, to be discouraged, to experience regret; — 
is not this an abridged history of our life 1 or if we attain 
to a fixed and stable disposition, does it not become the 
blind routine of habit, or the effeminate inactivity of indif- 
ference? We escape error, only by renouncing progress ; 
and changes, only by falling into inertia. 

Sometimes the circumstances which are around us, exer- 
cise, by turns, contrary influences. Not being prepared 
to receive or repulse these different influences, — we are 
surprised and disconcerted by the unlooked for changes 
which work around us : we no longer resist the impulses 



276 SELF-EDUCATION. 

which are given to us : we vary with the objects which act 
upon us ; yet believe ourselves always to be the same, 
because we continue in our effeminacy and our negligence. 
Thus we find few sustained characters ; and a man entirely 
consistent, is the most rare thing in the world. Men, 
judged on the whole, are neither so good nor so wicked as 
they appear. We only see men in some particular aspect. 
We do not suppose the same individual can contradict him- 
self. We reason from what we have seen in him, as to what 
we are yet to observe. Hence so many differing and oppos- 
ing judgments are made of the same man. Each spectator 
judges according to the side presented to himself. 

Now the illusion which a spectator experiences, we expe- 
rience in judging of ourselves. Exposed to constant oscilla- 
tion, we cannot measure ourselves, and are not aware, to 
what degrees we rise and fall. In each aspect of ourselves 
we almost believe we occupy a fixed post : we lose the 
memory of the past : we believe we can count upon the future. 
Hence the ordinary causes of our faults; hence the princi- 
pal use which we can draw from our faults. 

Unfortunately the feeling of these faults, when we do 
recognise them, produces upon us generally an effect very 
different from that which ought to attend them. We do not 
do evil for evil's sake ; but when we do evil, we exclude the 
image of good, lest it should importune us : we are agitated ; 
disorder enters into the mind and heart; having given up 
to weakness, we become more feeble for falling ; being car- 
ried away, we are intoxicated and lose the sense of propor- 
tion. If we cannot acknov/ledge ourselves guilty, we falsify 
conscience ; if we do recognise ourselves culpable, we be- 
come accustomed to the idea of our faults, and consent to 
be culpable, and are in danger of degrading ourselves. 

But let us stop before we fall into this abyss. Let us take 
care, above all things, not to let a first fault act upon us like 
an engagement ; let us take ©are not to live associated with 
our fault without disavowing it, — nor to accept stains upon 



OUR FAULTS. 277 

our character, nor inward shame, the most ignominious of 
all shame. A fault is a little thing, if the character still 
preserves vitality. It is indeed unfortunate, that a severe 
world often overwhelms without pity, by an irrevocable de- 
cree, those who have failed. It puts on them the seal of 
hopeless reprobation. In taking away the hope of reinstate- 
ment, it condemns the guilty to persevere in dishonoring 
themselves forever; it excites them to render themselves 
despicable; it seems to say to them, ''Vice is your lot 
and heritage." Yet the world which pronounces such a 
proscription, is the same world which holds in its bosom so 
much unheard of crime, and which sometimes can excuse 
so easily, can praise extravagantly, can flatter, and which 
even prescribes great violations of duty, if they be surround- 
ed with brilliancy, followed by success, or conformed to 
prejudice. Perhaps the wretch, who is proscribed, is, not- 
withstanding his fault, less corrupt than his judges. Hap- 
py are those compassionate beings who bring aid to the 
most real of misfortunes ; who stretch out their hands to 
the falling; who, by testifying their solicitude, give a pledge 
to them of the return of esteem ! True physicians of the 
soul ! who do not wound again the wounded, but cure them ; 
who give to them hope, as a means of cure ; who, strong 
in their own virtue, do not fear to show themselves indul- 
gent; and who, by a well understood indulgence, open the 
way of repentance. Thanks be rendered to religious doc- 
trines, which hold open constantly to the repentant the doors 
of the sanctuary of virtue, which restore in the eyes of the 
Supreme Judge those who have been wounded by the ca- 
pricious opinion of men ! Vincent de Paule is still greater 
in the prison of galley-slaves, than in the hospitals and at the 
cradle of the foundlings. 

Those who enter the career of excellence, after havinor 
rushed upon it with ardor, are often discouraged on finding 
how feeble they are. They believed themselves in full pos- 
session of that virtue which they worshp, and they find 
24 



2^8 SELF-EDUCATION. 

themselves giving up to the faults which they condemn ; — 
they are afflicted ; they ask themselves if this pure ardor by 
which they were animated was not itself an illusion ; they 
dare not count upon themselves; they become timid and 
lukewarm, and are checked. Those who are advanced in 
the career of excellence are often astonished that they must 
struggle with adversaries, and see them reappear after hav- 
ing been once vanquished. Discovering every day new 
imperfections in themselves, because they see better, both 
what they ought to be and what tliey are, they suffer them- 
selves to give up to lassitude and sadness. The experience 
of our faults, if we know how to consult it, always brings us 
valuable knowledge and new strength. It is a great, difficult, 
but salutary instruction, which initiates us into the knowl- 
edge of ourselves; — it is a warning which calls us to an 
active and continual vigilance; it shows us the weak places 
in our character, and the external dangers which threaten 
us most ; it makes us perceive whither the declivity on 
which we slide, will conduct us, if we allow ourselves to be 
hurried away. We may thus draw from one error the pre- 
servative against others, more numerous and greater ; — we 
are preserved also from another kind of error, not less fatal, 
which springs out of rash presumption and false security : 
it marks for us the degrees of the arc which we describe in 
the mournful oscillations to which our changeableness con- 
demns us ; it marks also the points on which we fail, through 
impotence or cowardice, and those on which we go to ex- 
cess, through exaggeration or impetuosity : it makes us 
self-collected : it invites us to serious reflections : it leads 
us to recognise the causes and consequences of our deter- 
minations, and the different influences to which they are 
subjected : it exercises us in a severe and earnest contest 
with ourselves : it dissipates a kind of illusions, which es- 
pecially lead us astray, those of vanity. 

And since it dissipates the illusions with which vanity 
surrounds us, the experience of our faults makes us free, 



OUR FAULTS. 279 

through the censorship which it leads us to exercise upon 
ourselves. The condemnation, which we pronounce against 
ourselves, demands a courage Avhich renders all other cour- 
age more easy ; it requires a sacrifice of self-love, that 
which, of all others, is often the most difficult, and generally 
is the last to which we resign ourselves. The sincere man 
experiences a much more lively horror for what is evil^when 
that which is evil has invaded some portion of himself: 
when he feels himself sullied by its presence, he perceives 
more evidently every thing that there is in a violation of 
duty at war with the condition of his existence and the 
order of his faculties, and he rejects this fatal anomaly with 
so much the more energy, as he feels himself more nearly 
touched. He finds, also, that virtue, after having been an 
instant obscured by a cloud, rises to his eyes with a more 
glorious majesty, having laid aside the veil which had cov- 
ered it. The traveller, distant for a time from his country, 
finds it more beautiful than ever, when he again comes to 
his native shore. Reconciliation gives a new power to ties 
which were broken for a moment : the river rushes on 
with redoubled impetuosity when the obstacle which arrested 
its course has disappeared. We have seen passionate or 
frivolous men suddenly arrested in their wanderings and 
dissipation, by the sense of a fault committed ; and brought 
back, through meditation, to grave and serious habits. We 
have seen great criminals, delivered by a sudden revolution 
from habits of crime, give themselves to excellence with a 
zeal and courage unknown to other men, — finding in the 
remembrance of their past excesses the most powerful spur 
to carry them on in their progress. There is, in truth, a 
profound and sincere sentiment in repentance ; it freshens 
all the springs of the soul ; it gives an insatiable desire to 
grow better. Sickness does not aspire more eagerly after 
health, than repentance aspires after virtue ; it is an exile 
who longs for his native land ; it is an orphan inquiring for 
his mother. 



280 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



If we can rise up so nobly out of crime, if we can go forth 
so much the more animatedly to do good, shall we hesitate 
to shake off the yoke of little weaknesses, and draw advan- 
tage from the faults of every day 't Two primary conditions 
are necessary for this, it is true; — it is necessary candidly 
to acknowledge to ourselves the fault committed ; it is 
necessary to retract, to expiate it, not by a speculative dis- 
avowal, exempt from effort and pain, but by a resolution of 
the will, which already repairs, because it engages to repair 
the fault effectively whenever the occasion offers. It is 
necessary also, above all, to soothe the internal agitation, 
which accompanies the fault, and is redoubled when it is 
recognised. Let us not be deceived about this: in the sad 
impression which this recognition gives us, there is some- 
thing more than regret and remorse , there is a cuting pain 
of self-love wounded in one of its most sensitive points, and 
constrained to give up apart of its dearest pretensions: 
we are not only discontented with ourselves, but humiliated; 
and though we blame the fault we have committed, we are 
irritated to find ourselves fallen, — This is what we must 
first remedy. We must tai?e away from the principle of re- 
pentance all that can adulterate its purity and freedom. 
Then its just bitterness will soon be converted into sweet- 
ness, and an unknown peace will rise up from the bosom 
of trouble. — We should taste, if we may so speak, the joys 
of moral convalesence. This inward, solitary, assiduous 
labor, which consists in repairing incessantly, and reestab- 
lishinsr order in ourselves, has somethincr much less attrac- 
tive, it is true, than the progressive movement towards im- 
provement : it is the long fatigue to which we are condemn- 
ed here below ; but it has a peculiar merit, precisely because 
its exercises have fewer charms, its effects less brilliancy. 
The necessity we are under of recommending this work 
without cessation, like the web of Penelope, and our want 
of power to free ourselves from the tribute we pay, every 
day, to the weakness of our nature, are among the trials to 



t)UR FAULTS. 281 

which virtue is subjected here below, by Providence. Vir- 
tue finds occasion to apply in this case a kind of patience 
which makes our very imperfection a means of progress ; 
for it accustoms us to recognise and accept the limits 
of our earthly condition ; it gives us a more forcible pre- 
sentiment also of the future destiny which is at last to re- 
move the limits, which virtue has struggled against so perse- 
veringly, and has pushed against without having been able 
to break. 

The world holds of so little account the secret struggles 
of virtue in inward reformation, that it often appreciates nat- 
ural qualities above those which cost so much. It is per- 
haps because men do not believe firmly in virtue, that they 
cannot give entire confidence to the solidity of the reforma- 
tion which is its work. 

We draw more advantage from the faults committed by 
the excess and abuse of an estimable quality, than from those 
which follow feebleness and impotence : we raise ourselves 
with more difficulty from those which degrade us, than from 
those which only lead us astray : we have most difficulty in 
repairing those which have been committed with reflection. 
Those which repentance most rarely eff'aces, are those which 
bear the characteristic of a cold calculation of self-interest ; 
those which are the most irremediable, are those by which 
we have lied to ourselves. 

We sometimes defend ourselves in the faults committed 
in the presence of witnesses : self-love comes to our aid, 
and prolongs, aggravates, and renders them fruitful : it not 
only puts an obstacle in the way of our acknowledging 
them, but it gives birth to the more fatal fault of being satis- 
fied with ourselves. It is thus that we are more evil dispos- 
ed towards those whom we have oflfended, than towards 
those who have off'ended us; — we hate them for the evil 
we have done them. Self-love and vanity are the principal 
obstacles which prevent us from profiting from the exposure 
24* 



283 SELF-EDUCATION. 

of our faults ; and of all the damage which they cause us, 
this is not the least. 

In this portion of self-education, of which the object is, to 
make the experience which has cost us so dear, at least 
fruitful, our first care should be directed towards attacking 
self-love and vanity, as the two guardians which, placed in 
advance of our faults, would protect, hide, defend, perhaps 
even flatter them. 

We often find honest people who have the happiness of 
hardly ever failing, who conform themselves tranquilly to the 
principal precepts of virtue, who pay respect to prohibitions, 
who especially never go astray by excess of generous affec- 
tions. They live according to rule, but their life is nearly 
barren in excellence; they are stationary, immovable, satis- 
fied with themselves ; they sleep, and are astonished to hear 
it said how difficult is the practice of virtue. They rather 
practise it as a trade, than embrace it as a vocation, like the 
subaltern ministers of the temple, who wander with a cold 
eye around the altar of sacrifice, doing their mechanical office, 
astonished at the rapture and piety of the faithful: — it is 
true that he who sleeps does not sin. The honest people of 
whom we speak would be fortunate, perhaps, if some fault 
could one day draw them from their drowsiness, give them 
through repentance a more vigorous nature, disabuse them 
of the security, the pride, perhaps, which they feel in their 
moral mediocrity, and inspire them at length with the 
thought and desire of becoming better. 

The experience of our faults is a luminous introduction to 
the knowledge of mankind, and also to the science which 
has for its object the conduct of life. It is the education 
of benevolence ; it makes us cherish more ardently the 
communion of the good ; it makes us better support com- 
munion with the imperfect : the sentiment of our imperfec- 
tions brings us more near to them, disposes us to the affec- 
tions we ought to bear to them, inspires us with condescen- 
sion, and obtains for us, in return, a confidence more entire, 



OUR FAULTS. 

on their part. When, pursued with regret for a fault com- 
mitted, we have the happiness of meeting with a being 
touched by adversity, and have the power of assisting him, it 
seems as if our conscience were solaced, that we have found 
the means of reconciling ourselves again with duty. The 
consolations, which we can thus open to others, soothe our 
inward pains ; the tears of gratitude, that fall upon us, heal 
our sick hearts of their wounds : — acts of charity are a 
beautiful and sweet expiation. 

Of all the exercises of generosity, the most noble, the 
most extended, the most difficult, is that which carries to 
men useful assistance in moral maladies. But what physi- 
cian will give useful directions, if not he who has himself 
experienced the evils he seeks to cure ? From the remem- 
brance of our faults we draw the most efficacious counsels, 
and find the secret of that language which may make them 
understood by others. 



SECTION II. 

DISCIPLINE OF EXTERNAL CIRCUMSTANCES. 



CHAPTER I. 



IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 



Man continually receives influences from men and things, 
favorable or unfavorable to his moral progress : and self- 
education should not only consist in internal discipline, but 
should modify these external influences, either in them- 
selves, or in their efl"ects. The latter is especially necessa- 
ry ; for it is not always possible to change circumstances 
themselves, but the impressions which we receive are always 
in our power. We may prevent or throw off" their injurious 
effects, or gather up and preserve the assistance they offer. 

It is important, in this external education of ourselves, 
to distinguish what is really in our power, from what is ab- 
solutely independent of our eflTorts ; and afterwards, to study 
the means of using well, and with eff*ect, what power we 
have. Outward circumstances tend to develope both the 
Love of excellence and Self-goverment ; therefore it is neces- 
sary, in surveying our outward circumstances, to observe this 
twofold result. Example offers to us the first and perhaps 
the most important of influences. 

There is a singular analogy between the laws which gov- 
ern the instinct of imitation, and those which govern habit. 
We do the actions we see others do, easily and promptly, 
without feeling it necessary to combine the plan or conceive 



IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 285 

the motives, the instinct of imitation taking place of reflec- 
tion and will ; and more than this, it becomes even a virant 
which solicits us, an impulse which carries us away, uncon- 
sciously to ourselves, or in spite of ourselves. We might 
say, that the instinct of imitation is borrowed habit ; and 
that habit is a sort of imitation, which consists in copying 
one's self 

But there is, in imitation, something superior to what is 
properly called habit; imitation supposes observation and 
a certain sympathy ; habit is solitary as well as blind. Ani- 
mals acquire imitation in a less degree than habit; they only 
imitate the actions of their own species (with one remarkable 
exception, for when they live with men, many of them seem 
to follow their steps, as if men were given to them as 
guides). The faculty of imitation is different in different 
species, however. It obtains in man a complete develope- 
ment, because he has a spirit of observation so curious and 
investigating, and a principle of activity so indefatigable. 

The province of imitation, like that of habit, is in external, 
sensitive, organic life, and should reign there. In practice, 
it saves care, fatigue, and time, and renders, through partici- 
pation, the experience acquired by a few, perhaps by one, 
common to a great number of individuals. It preserves 
concert in the multitude of individual movements. It pro- 
duces uniformity in society, as habit produces constancy in 
individuals : it also produces a kind of perseverance, per- 
petuating itself through generations, by the tradition of ex- 
ample. 

But the instinct of imitation, like mechanical habit, is 
simply an instrument of execution for external activity : it 
ought only to be employed in the sphere of application ; 
anywhere else, it is only an obstacle. Imitation and habit 
are the great resources of those who cannot move or direct 
themselves; they compose for such persons an automatic 
life, and unite to impose chains upon them. We should not 
be astonished that so many people content themselves more 



286 SELF-EDUCATION. 

or less with this kind of existence, — it is so very convenient. 
It dispenses with interior labor, soothes all uncertainty, 
renders us learned without study, regular without effort, 
and by clothing us in common forms, assures us beforehand 
of general approbation. 

The instinct of imitation should not be allowed to invade 
the freedom of our moral faculties, for it would destroy them. 
It stifles both the Love of Excellence and Self-government, 
substituting a blind principle for the voice of conscience, 
taking volition away from our actions, preventing choice, 
and enchaining liberty. 

It is not enough, therefore, to choose good examples ; it 
is also important how we use them, and what kind of in- 
struction we draw from them. 

Since the models of antiquity have been restored to litera, 
ture and the arts, it has been continually repeated, '' Imitate 
the ancients;" and the crowd have believed that it was 
only necessary to chalk out modern works, upon the models 
of our ancestors, reproducing the same subjects, setting 
them in the same framework, observing the same propor- 
tions, and employing the same expedients. In vain the 
small number of superior minds have replied, "Yes — we 
should imitate the ancients, by going up to the same inspira- 
tions, and becoming what they were ; daring like them to 
think for ourselves ; like them being original, simple, ingen- 
uous." But few have understood them ; it is for genius 
alone to comprehend them. 

It is just so in morals. The novitiate in virtue should 
contemplate models, only to be penetrated with their spirit ; 
not copying the actions of others, but discovering and bor- 
rowing their generous motives. He should enter into com- 
munication with the souls of the good, be penetrated with 
their spirit, learn from them to know himself to consult 
conscience rather than opinion, to possess merits of his own, 
and consequently to act from himself. 



IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 287 

There are, then, two sorts of imitation, as there are two 
sorts of exercise ; one passive and mechanical, the other 
active, free, reflective, and fruitful ; the first needs only to 
see the example and to follow it ; the second meditates upon 
it and interprets it ; and these two kinds of imitation act 
inversely. 

The first, indifferent in its nature, is the channel of 
vice and error, as well as of what is laudable : and when 
virtue and truth confide their destiny to it, they lose their 
character ; the one is despoiled of its merit, the other of its 
evidence. 

The second kind of imitation chooses ..and discerns, 
taking examples as aids not as chains, showing to generous 
souls all the extent of their liberty, and revealing to them 
all the secret of their strength. " And I also am a painter ! " 
said Corregio. So the noble spirit, yet ignorant of itself, 
at sight of the great models in the career of virtue, cries 
out, " And I too am capable of excellence, and worthy to 
aspire after it! " Unknown faculties, which had slumbered 
within us, wait but a similar occasion to take a sudden 
spring : it is by the example of others, as in a mirror, that 
we learn to know ourselves : the noble actions that strike 
our eyes, reveal to us our true vocation, — a revelation 
which may perhaps influence the whole of our destiny. 

If examples are studied in this spirit, we may draw from 
them three kinds of utility. In the first place, they facilitate 
and brighten our understanding of the notions of excellence, 
by offering a living definition of them. In the second place, 
they furnish a positive experience in regard to the means 
of success, the obstacles, and the resources, in the practice 
of excellence. Lastly, by a happy sympathy they commu- 
nicate to our heart the sentiments of which they show the 
effect; exciting a generous emulation, that is to say, the 
ardent desire, at the same time with the confidence, of 
equalling those who have preceded us, and perhaps of sur- 
passing them : but these three kinds of utility require also 
three conditions, which correspond to them. 



288 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



1. It is not one solitary example, which can clearly and 
exactly define a moral notion. A solitary example may 
even deceive, more than instruct us ; the idea, in becoming 
too confined, becomes false at the same time : every moral 
notion, personified and rendered sensible by example, is 
accompanied, in this particular case, by circumstances 
which are really extraneous and fortuitous : we may mis- 
take for essential, what is only accessary and a part of the 
costume. It is necessary, therefore, to compare examples, 
in order to avoid particularizing too much the consequences 
which we may deduce from them: it is necessary to meet 
them in different situations, that the ideal may arise, just 
and true, always clear and distinct from the midst of con- 
trasts. Let us gather, then, from the different regions of 
the earth, from different ages, the rich harvest offered us 
by the tradition of honorable lives. Let us beware of im- 
prisoning virtue in too narrow conditions. Let us disen- 
gage it from that which belongs to individuals, to occasions, 
to places, and to times, that it may shine in its own true 
and immortal brightness; that it may appear, not as depen- 
dent on customs and manners, but as a great, eternal, 
universal law ; not as a local institution, but as the endow- 
ment of humanity. 

2. It is not only necessary to recur sometimes to exam- 
ples which are at a distance from us, but it is necessary, 
in the variety of them, that we should attend to those which 
are near, and which give us a picture of the circumstances 
in which we ourselves are placed. We do not well com- 
prehend the thoughts and sentiments of those, who have 
little in common with our circumstances : we do not exactly 
know how to apply their motives ; and there are always pre- 
texts for dispensing with following their tracks, and we are 
content with a theoretic admiration. It is well to read Plu- 
tarch, and to contemplate, in the great personages of history, 
the immortal traits, which characterize the heroism of virtue : 
they are for moral education what Homer is for poetical 



IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 289 

education ; but it is necessary to seek an experience more 
near and familiar, which, although it may not transport us 
so vividly into the region of the ideal, may teach us what 
we can put in practice, and inspire us with natural senti- 
ments, which may be realized every day. 

3. To be truly instructive, example ought to be complete; 
that is to say, it ought to make known, not only the conse- 
quence, but the cause ; and not only the cause, but the con- 
currence of all the causes. It is not so difficult a thing to 
know what should be done, as how it is to be done : in 
showing the end, the route should be traced. In contem- 
plating a virtuous action, we should discover also, what ob- 
stacles it has been obliged to overcome, by what means it 
has triumphed, by what progressive and often slow prepara- 
tion it has been accomplished. An action detached from a 
whole life may shine with great glory, but it may have been 
only a happy accident, a sudden and passing inspiration : 
it is the whole of a virtuous life, which it is useful to study ; 
it is in that we may see how actions spring from character, 
and are linked together. 

The imagination is excited by extraordinary examples ; 
for the marvellous of moral nature has a powerful and just 
charm, which seems also to belong to us. And we need 
not fear to raise our eyes to these great models, which, 
standing in the midst of the course of ages, attest all the 
dignity of human nature; but we ought to console ourselves 
by this spectacle. 

We are so surrounded by common things, we feel so 
much our own weakness, it is well to measure the height to 
w^hich virtue can rise, even if it is only to know how far 
off we are. But we admire, and most easily praise the merit 
which is not for our use, and which we believe we are dis- 
pensed from acquiring ; the enjoyment we experience in 
contemplating it, is purely gratuitous. Thus we applaud, 
at the theatre, those great acts of immolation to duty, which 
are models of the moral sublime, without drawing any 
9'^ 



290 SELF-EDUCATION. 

consequences for our own life, and without thinking to make 
any common application of it. But we must also cherish those 
examples which are real, and which, being more modest, 
are found at our very door, guides for the journey which 
we are called on to undertake, and which we would accom- 
plish. 

It is useful, lastly, to take examples in situations which 
offer most obstacles and least succour. The virtues of the 
rich are less eloquent to those who suffer the trial of adver- 
sity. Poverty has its models of heroism, the sight of which 
rewards, an hundred fold, while it instructs, those who go 
to relieve it. How many times have they blushed in consid- 
ering the patience, the resignation, the sweetness of those 
abandoned and despised sufferers ! Would that we could 
conduct to this spectacle, the youths whom we instruct by 
books ; that we could open to their attention the gates of 
these humble asylums ! Would that those who, prepared 
by education, sustained by the opinion of the world, have but 
few trials to undergo, and so many aids to assist them, could 
come and look! Would they then dare in the midst of all 
the enjoyments of life to raise systematic doubts concern- 
ing human liberty and the reality of virtue ? Would that 
those would come, who, denying to our nature its best pre- 
rogatives, sometimes affect nevertheless so much pride ! 
Would that they could look and be humbled ! Understand- 
ino- all that there is great, true, and serious in human des- 
tiny, they might find here the remedy of their frivolity, and 
an answer to their sophisms. 

In the first ages of civilization, people ranked among 
the demigods those who had been signalized by great 
and noble actions. They supposed that these heroes had 
held a nearer relationship to the divine nature ; they lov- 
ed to place their examples under the safeguard of public 
worship, to add to their authority all the power of reli- 
gion : it was a sort of worship instituted in honor of virtue. 
How has Christianity extended and purified these views ! 



IMITATION AND EXAMPLE. 291 

It has chosen models in all the countries of the earth, 
in all conditions of society ; it has taught the world to hon- 
or the obscure virtues; its heroes have risen up from the 
humblest professions ; they have appeared in the robes 
of indigence; and pride and frivolity have been constrained 
to prostrate themselves in their presence. It has found ex- 
amples for each of us, and especially for those vi'ho have 
most need of succour. 

The vulgar draw moral rules from the authority of exam- 
ples, while example has no other real authority than that of 
the rule which it is destined to bring to light. Often, with- 
out subscribing exactly to this prejudice, we conclude, 
nevertheless, by induction. We suppose, that all which 
virtuous men do, may serve as a model, or at least as an 
'Gxcus'e. This is an error : good people are not always con- 
sistent; they have their anomalies; they have their errors, 
which their good intentions must redeem ; and which some- 
times are connected with their whole lives and their very 
virtues : it is a privilege which they acquire. Be as good 
as they, before pretending to participate with them in this 
privilege. 

The spirit of contradiction seems to have been placed by 
the side of the disposition to mechanical imitation, as if for 
an antidote. The sentiment of our liberty, and the de- 
sire of independence, are innate, and, when they are not 
•entirely stifled, react against the usurpation which tends to 
■ensflave us. Also, they manifest themselves so much the 
more, as the attempt to enslave us discovers itself more 
openly. Thus, the spirit of contradiction seems to have 
been more particularly imparted to the feeble, who, when 
menaced, find in it protection ; when oppressed, vengeance. 
If a feeble man cannot defend his liberty in essential things, 
ihe will console himself by it in little things; if he cannot re- 
sist acts, he will censure motives ; and we often see this con- 
trast of a feebleness, which follows example, with a freedom 
of mind, which, in condemning this same example, recom- 



292 SELF-EDUCATION. 

penses itself for its slavery, united in the same character. 
However, the spirit of contradiction serves badly, some- 
times, the cause for which it is employed : it seeks, not 
what is best in itself, but what is opposed to that which 
exists : it does not tend towards the end, but is content to 
go out of the common route. Its true office is to criticize, 
only that it may prepare for an impartial examination ; to 
break the chains of instinctive imitation, that it may bestow 
on the soul that free activity, which, at last, is exercised in 
reflective imitation. 

Pride also repulses examples, but it is because it refuses 
to recognise all superiority ; and moral superiority, being 
the most real, must trouble it more than any other. It 
disdains aids ; it wishes to isolate itself. Truth and good- 
ness themselves are wrong in the eyes of the proud, if they 
come from another. They grow capricious and odd in 
seeking to be original. Those who reject example, are 
ordinarily those to whom it would be most necessary. One 
of its great advantages is precisely to serve as a remedy ta 
pride. Happy are they, who have left us this rich heritage ;. 
who, in preceding us, have smoothed our way ! May they 
continue in the midst of us, venerated aud subjects of grati- 
tude ! they are our true inslructers and masters. It is de- 
lightful, it is soul-sustaininoj, to live in this illustrious com" 
pany ! We find in it entire security.. Our inquietudes are 
calmed; our doubts dissipated: fatigued at the sight of the 
world and the sense of our own weakness, isolated perhaps 
on earth, we find in them the friends whose communion 
sustains, encourages, consoles us. 



FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 293 



CHAPTER II. 



FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 



Priendship is acknowledged to be the greatest of all 
treasures, necessary to complete our pleasures, and power- 
ful to console our sufferings : but few have estimated its 
value as a moral power. Indeed, it has sometimes led us 
to dispense with new efforts and lulled us to sleep in its 
delightful communion, — our self-love being flattered, our 
pretensions acquiesced in, our weaknesses indulged. More 
than this, — self-iiiUn-est corrupts it, and it becomes the 
accomplice of our indolence and our faults. With our 
friends we are always disposed to believe ourselves better 
than we are ; a mistake which is an obstacle to our becoming 
better in reality. 

In the universal plan, association is always a principle of 
fruitfulness ; and is not friendship a great moral associa- 
tion? And is it not then destined to make virtue germinate 
in the bosom of the affections ? 

If we wish friendship to be to us what it ought to be, a 
great moral influence, we should seek friends superior to 
ourselves. Those who are ambitious of wealth or power, 
do this. In attaching ourselves to those who are stronger 
than we are, we are guarded from two dangers; we are 
preserved from indolence on the one side, and defended 
from presumption on the other. Elevated minds are natu- 
rally drawn to communicate with those whose superiority 
they feel ; a kind of instinct reveals to them the important 
truth, which we are here endeavouring to establish : they 
perceive in the image of this superiority, what they are 
destined to become themselves. Intimacy with those who 
are better than we are, unites to the influence of example, 
and to the confidence which springs from the presence of 
25* 



294 SELF-EDUCATION. 

aid, a new and powerful kind of emulation, springing from 
our desire to be united with what we love : it gives noble- 
ness to sentiments, ardor to will, and confidence to action. 
Happy is he who has found in a friend a model ; who can 
mingle affection with esteem, admiration, and respect.* 

The wish of Plato is then accomplished, and virtue is 
personified. In proportion as virtue is better known, it be- 
comes more beautiful; in proportion as it admits us to fa- 
miliarity, it engages us the more in its worship ; for we love 
better those whom we can honor. 

We ordinarily seek friends who resemble us, because we 
desire in friendship a means of repose and a sanction of 
habit. But if we wish to find friendship a means of educa- 
tion, we should, on the other hand, look for friends, who 
abound in what we want, and have the qualities correspond- 
ino- to our deficiencies. Then we may make instructive 
comparisons and advantageous exchanges. Habitual con- 
tradictions will be useful, although inconvenient ; it will 
keep us awake, preserve us from slavish routine, and exer- 
cise a salutary control. Nature indicates this, in founding 
on an absolute contrast, that friendship which it has itself 
instituted, the most perfect and the most durable of all, mar- 
riacre. The moral conditions of friendship, therefore, are 
nearly the inverse of the external conditions, in which 
there should be the greatest equality. 

The perfect intimacy of friendship can be established 
only between two persons: it is a marriage of souls, which 
does not admit of polygamy. The heart has secrets it can 
only confide to one, — devotion has tributes, which cannot 
be shared : we can give ourselves wholly only to one person ; 
the communication cannot be mutually absolute, into which 
a third is received. Friendship is a preference and a 
choice ; it proceeds therefore by reduction. Religious 

* But, in this case, will not every one be seeking, and no one find a 
friend ? The good man always esteems himself less than he is, and this 
suffices to solve the difficulty. 



FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 295 

morality only confirms the wish of sentiment, in excluding 
plurality from the conjugal union, the most perfect of all 
friendships. But it is not well, on the other hand, to shut 
ourselves up, exclusively in communion with an only friend ; 
for then friendship would fail of one of its ends, which con- 
sists in opening the heart to the social affections, and grad- 
ually preparing the reign of benevolence. Moreover, in this 
prolonged t tc-d-tle, we should end by copying each other, 
till we could no longer have any exchange to make ; we 
should be blinded by each other ; we should honestly flatter 
each other. It is important to vary companions and exam- 
ples. In multiplying our relations, we see ourselves in va- 
rious lights ; we gather more complete influences, and save 
ourselves from introducing personal feeling into our aifec- 
tions ; we are less exposed to partial judgments, to exagger- 
ations, to adopting the faults of our friends. 

The compact of that holy friendship, of which mutual 
progress is the object, rests upon two conditions : namely, 
sincere and perfect confidence, and severe mutual watchful- 
ness. 

We involuntarily place ourselves in a favorable light to 
our friends ; for how can we have courage to compromise 
a treasure of so great a price as friendship, by discovering 
to them what we fear to avow to ourselves? Indeed, in the 
moments of this delightful communion, we arc under an 
illusion ourselves, forgetting the weaknesses to which we 
yield in our hours of solitude. But benefit from our friends, 
as from our physician, depends on our confessions. Con- 
fessions have a magic power in preparing the means of cure 
for maladies of the soul ; they aid us in being sincere with 
ourselves ; they are the commencement of a generosity, 
which purifies the will, and gives a spring to courage. Ev- 
ery confession is an implied promise of an attempt to reform. 
Some faults are half corrected, when we have confessed 
them without disguise ; and what is remarkable, these are 
precisely the faults, which are the most difficult to reach, 
because they hide themselves in the depth of our souls. 



296 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Such is, for instance, that subtle self-love, which exerts 
all its skill in concealing itself from all eyes, that it may 
satisfy itself more surely. In practising perfect candor in 
our habitual intercourse, we are preserved from certain 
blemishes, which do not dare to display themselves. How 
fortunate a habit is this, which guarantees purity of heart 
and simplicity, — at the same time giving us comfort and 
putting us at ease ! But how could we incessantly submit 
to the sacrifices which simplicity and purity require of us, 
unless friendship were near, to reassure us, and to temper 
our self-reproaches 1 

Mutual vigilance demands from friendship not only crit- 
icism but encouragement. The true friend is a benevolent 
censor, who sustains while he represses us, consoles while 
he corrects us; whose severity is full of tenderness. 

But it is difficult to fulfil this second condition of friend- 
ship ; for, on the one hand, we would rather confess our 
faults than have them anticipated by another ; and, on the 
other hand, it is more agreeable to notice the merits of our 
friends than their faults, to praise than to blame them. 
Thus, how inefficiently we fulfil this duty towards others, 
and how feeble is our gratitude to those who discharge it 
to us ! 

The communication of intimate friendship, then, is the 
school of self-knowledge. The confidential out-pourings of 
intimacy aid us essentially : language is a mirror in which 
our own thought is reflected ; and feeling, in being com- 
municated, is developed, and defined : we perhaps never 
entirely understand our internal secrets until we have con- 
fided them to others. 

The sight of a virtuous friend, if we meet him at the crit- 
ical moment, suffices to preserve us from weakness, and to 
inspire us with courageous resolution. It is a light which 
seems to come from Heaven, and descend to the bottom of 
our souls. Constantly in the presence of our friends, their 
esteem will be strength to us ; the desire of making them 



FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 297 

rejoice, of making their hearts leap at our good actions, will 
be a still farther encouragement; and of what will it not 
render us capable ? We would devote ourselves to their hap- 
piness. Can we bring them a purer felicity than our own 
improvement ? 

Our conviction of a truth seems to redouble in our minds, 
when we have found it in another's mind : it is a testimony 
that we have thought correctly. Honorable sentiments 
acquire more power when we find them participated. It is 
the nature of all the impressions which carry in themselves 
a character of harmony, to be pleased with the concert 
which repeats them, and to receive a new energy in meeting 
their own image. It is a second harmony, joined to the 
first, confirming and deepening it. The truth found by two 
has more vividness ; a good action done in companionship 
produces a livelier joy. When we meditate with a friend, 
apart, on that which belongs to excellence, does not virtue 
rise before us more beautiful and majestic? If this sacred 
alliance is forined in the flower of youih, how freshly spring 
up all lawful hopes from the bosom of all generous senti- 
ments ! This is the period of life in which friendship is 
most useful, and in which it has most charms : and Provi- 
dence thus seems to take pleasure in inviting to it those, 
to whom it may give most assistance. When contracted in 
view of the common end of destiny, friendship becomes an 
alliance of the whole life. United to become better, these 
beings will advance together in the stormy and difficult career 
of terrestrial existence. They will shield, they will encour- 
age, they will recompense each other ; extending to each 
other the hand in the midst of precipices, showing to each 
other the palm of victory. They have placed all their mer- 
its in coqimon, and their affection increases through their 
mutual gratitude. Is one of them touched by adversity, or 
struck down by the injustice of man ? He thus becomes more 
dear to the other; friendship preserves to him those true 
blessings which cannot be taken away, and absolves him 



298 SELF-EDUCATION. 

from the unjust decrees of opinion. The events and pas- 
sions, which are in agitation around them, do not enfeeble 
the ties which bind them together ; for these ties are placed 
under an inviolable safeguard. Not even absence can really 
separate them. For their souls have a centre, where they 
again find and understand each other. They go on, there- 
fore, with the same step. What have I said ? Perhaps one 
of them has accomplished his task and disappeared, and 
the succours of friendship have ceased. No; not all the 
succours of friendship have ceased : he who is condemned 
to survive, is improved by his very grief: his soul, widowed 
for a time, nourishes itself on remembrance and hopes ; 
on the tomb of him whom he has loved, he meditates upon 
his example and his counsels, with veneration and a re- 
ligious tenderness. In the voice which calls him to be good^ 
he recognises the voice of a friend. Worthy actions are the 
monuments he would raise to his memory. 

In an entire circle of friends, there is one who must re- 
main the last. To what solitude is that heart given up, 
which was created for the affections ! What support shall 
be found to assist him? What support? If he has known 
how to profit in the school of friendship, he will comprehend, 
that there is,, in the path of progress, a more elevated point 
than that in which we enjoy intimate affection, a point for- 
tunately reserved for those who are already far onward in 
their 'career : he will comprehend that there is a secret 
heroism of heart in fidelity to excellence, which perseveres 
when consolations and encouragements have been taken 
away, when we can no longer find a recompense in the ap- 
probation of those we have loved. This deprivation of all 
visible assistance calls us to exercises almost sublime ; it 
leads us to touch the summits of virtue. 

Independently of the aids received in the communica- 
tion of friendship, there are others, which have their uses, 
although they are not so pleasant, and are even mixed with 
bitterness. Our enemies lend us assistance, or at least we 



FRIENDS AND ENEMIES. 299 

may borrow assistance from them. They serve to correct 
whatever was too complaisant and soft in friendship ; to 
make up for the adulations which are so liable to corrupt 
us. They afford an abundant supplement to the instruc- 
tions which introduce us to the knowledge of ourselves. 
From our friends we may learn our good qualities; from 
our enemies, our defects. We can trust ourselves to the 
latter for this discovery, which we should perhaps never 
know how to have made without their aid. Our self-love 
will have, it is true, the resource of accusing these witnesses 
of partiality ; but if we are sincere, we shall almost always 
find something true in the exaggerated reproaches of 
enmity. 

The presence of an enemy awakens our vigilance: wg 
become severe towards ourselves, that we may prevent the 
just severity of others. 

It is then well, for some reasons, to have enemies : it may 
be even necessary. It is true, we are not obliged to be the 
enemy of any one ; but we may often be called upon to have 
adversaries. We meet them, not only in the struggle of 
private interests, but, inevitably, in devoting ourselves to 
the cause of truth and justice; — and it is especially in this 
last case, that adversaries become implacable enemies. 

The fear of creating enemies, sometimes produces a 
culpable looseness. Thus, we often compromise duty, 
when, in fulfilling it, it is necessary to resist the passions or 
strike down the prejudices of others; too often defending 
innocence timidly and feebly, and leaving pernicious max- 
ims to circulate freely ; for, we say, shall we compromise 
our repose for abstractions ! We tremble, especially, before 
pride and intolerance, because, of all the passions, they are 
the most irritable ; yet these are especially what demand 
to be repressed with vigor and chastised with severity, 
and ought to find the good man the most inflexible.* We 

* The disciple of Jesus Christ, cannot but remark that these are vices 
which found his Master the most unyielding. He gave no quarter to the 
gystematic mental oppression of the Scribes and Pharisees. — Translator. 



300 SELF-EDUCATION. 

hope to escape by some concessions. But the more we 
grant, the more we find ourselves constrained to give up. 

The wise man, when serving the cause of virtue, avoids 
employing the arrows which wound persons : he reserves his 
severities for principles and actions. But what care soever 
he takes, he will always find people, who will perceive them- 
selves censured, who will take to themselves the blame, 
and who are wounded to hear the virtues praised which they 
do not possess. The just man defending innocence, always 
avoids mingling, even with the just indignation of an hon- 
est soul, accents of human passion ; but oppressive violence 
is irritated beforehand with a moderation which condemns 
it. Persecutors do not pardon those, who refuse to become 
the instruments of persecution ; they even bear ill will to 
those, who do not approve them, especially if they are good, 
What then is to be done to escape these animosities ? Even 
impartiality and moderation, far from always defending us 
from enmity, draw upon us the hatred of men, who are 
blinded by their passions. What is to be done ? It remains 
to accept this hatred as an honor, to disdain it with a mod- 
est and serene dignity. There are enemies, whose attacks 
should give us a more vivid consciousness of our merits. 
The public man should applaud himself for his own firmness, 
and for the integrity of his character, if he is the object 
of the clamors of intrigue. To what fury will he not expose 
himself, who, called to unmask hypocrisy, shall have fulfill- 
ed his duty vvith a courageous freedom'? A magistrate, as 
we have often seen, has not an enemy more bitter, than he 
who has vainly tried to corrupt him. It is impossible to be 
sincere, without wounding some vanity ; just, without offend- 
ing some pretensions ; generous, without attacking selfish- 
ness. We have remarked, and unfortunately the remark 
is well founded, that the most unjust enmity will injure its 
object, in a degree, in public opinion. Hence arises new 
^instruction. This experience will teach us not to rest upon 
opinion, and to measure its value ; it will teach us the last 



SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 301 

sacrifice which duty claims ; it will constrain us to seek 
and to find, in the testimony of conscience, the true secret of 
repose and strength. 

Thus we find friendship especially favors the Love of 
Excellence ; enmity, the exercise of Self-government. 



CHAPTER III. 



SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 



Social intercourse is a primary means of education for 
man. It is by this intercourse that he is delivered from the 
savage and brutal life of the senses, and introduced into the 
life of the affections and of thought ; and the same influence 
accompanies him when he enters into the moral life. 

As language, instituted in the first place for reciprocal 
communication, becomes an instrument by which each in- 
dividual developes, forms, and fixes thought and judgment ; 
in observing others, we unconsciously study ourselves as 
in a mirror ; even the differences we discover instructing 
us, by multiplying companions and contrasts. Thus, social 
intercourse becomes a school for reflection. In discovering 
what we are, we also perceive what we may become ; and, 
called to choose in view of the future, we are led to look 
into ourselves. The struggle of interests and pretensions 
brings out the sentiment of justice; benefits received, teach 
gratitude, and thus we are led from equity to love ; more- 
over, the exchange of affection teaches devotion, and devo- 
tion, the generosity which introduces virtue. 

How profound are the designs of Providence in thus con- 
stituting the laws of human nature ; putting the spur of a 
want wherever there is a means of progress! The first of 
these means is the social state, which is first a necessity, and 
26 



303 SELF-EDUCATION. 

then an attraction. Our faculties make progress by exercise, 
and activity springs first from a sense of want which seeks 
exercise, society afterwards preserving the love of movement, 
by offering infinitely varied opportunities of satisfying it. In- 
fancy and youth have especial need of support and guidance, 
and they are adorned with graces, that charm and attract 
all hearts, love springing from being beloved. Affection 
thus excited towards those who are entering life, protects 
them ; and by its benignant countenance teaches the lesson 
of love, by means of which they are softened and touched, 
and learn to understand ; and the young themselves pressed 
on by the necessity of being cherished, invoke and solicit 
affection, as a great object of life, without knowing the 
assistance it will lend them. They soon, however, learn 
the nature and value of this assistance, and feeling that they 
must merit esteem, if they would preserve such blessings., 
they would do something to obtain it ; they would respond 
to the sentiment of which they are the objects, and in which 
they find a support and protection. What confidence it 
inspires to see ourselves beloved! And what an argument 
may be derived from the above views, that those who have 
the care of youth should be good ! By this alone they give 
knowledge and strength. But it is not to the morning of 
life alone that this influence is extended. Throughout our 
moral education, if we know how to concur with it, by the 
cooperation which it requires, this influence may be benefi- 
cial ; but it may be modified and consequently adulterated, 
as our relations become extended and complicated. 

" Every time that 1 have been among men, I have return- 
ed more imperfect," says a sage, who was too severe, per- 
haps, towards society and towards himself. He was a her- 
mit. When a man goes from solitude into the world, he 
runs the danger of being drawn into too severe judgments 
upon the world and himself We cannot find realized in 
society the images we have arbitrarily formed in a con- 
templation wholly ideal; we cannot apply rigorously the 



SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 303 

absolute rules which we had drawn up in the regions of 
abstraction. Thrown into the midst of society, we are struck 
by the contrast ; we encounter a thousand obstacles, which 
we have not experienced or suspected in our solitary life. 
The dissipation of mind, alone, is a great trouble ; hav- 
ing no longer our customary aids, we become disconcerted. 
It was easy to speculate on perfection in a state of tranquil- 
lity, and far from danger. We perhaps believed ourselves 
to have attained it, until we were put to the proof, till reality 
came, and the labor commenced ; now we find fault with the 
world, from not remarking that we have doubtless carried 
into the world an imperfect and feeble virtue. Do not let 
us accuse other men of our own faults ; but reflect, that 
we, perhaps, might have carried with us and preserved dis- 
positions by which we might have escaped peril and gathered 
advantages. 

The social inclination has something in it eminently 
moral; it puts in motion many precious faculties; it opens 
the soul, and makes it expand with many honorable senti- 
ments. How solemn, touching, and noble is the impression 
which we receive of the dignity of human nature when we 
find ourselves in the midst of an assembly of men of different 
conditions, with whom we have no point of contact and no 
collision of interests. It is the same kind of impression, 
more extended bat less vivid, that we receive in the midst 
of our own family. We are strengthened by the great alli- 
ance ; and generous sentiments take the ascendency rapidly 
and surely. Such an impression is often received when 
we mingle with the crowd, on those days set apart to sacred 
rest. The impression is deepened, if this assembly is in 
the midst of the simple scenes of nature ; if its attention is 
directed towards some grave and majestic work of art ; if 
it is gathered round the statue of a great man ; or if it 
fills a solemn temple : in short, if some moral or relig- 
ious thought comes over all, the soul is penetrated with 
emotions of a strong and elevated character. This is the 



304 SELF-EDUCATION. 

natural influence which we should constantly receive 
from social intercourse, if it were not adulterated by the 
hostile dispositions, which spring out of our rivalries, and 
our secret desire of invading and subduing others. But 
the hostilities of which we are the object do not so much 
interfere with it, as those of which we are the authors. The 
wounds that the first cause us, are envenomed by our- 
selves ; we seem to take ' delight in inflaming them ; we 
allow the envy that we might despise, to irritate us ; the 
criticism that might enlighten, to wound us ; and we are 
mortified even by indifference. Our self-love, especially, 
wages with the self-love of others a silent and concealed 
but continual and implacable war. We complain of being 
carried away by the influence of example : but we give it 
the power that it exercises over us. On examination, we 
shall find that the examples so easily followed, meet a secret 
propensity within, and that we have a secret interest in fol- 
lowing the tracks of others : this happens, especially, in 
regard to those whom we would flatter ; for there is no 
adulation more delicate. 

We complain of the extreme corruption of the world, of 
the discouragement and sadness that it makes us feel; but 
we should guard against declamation, and appreciate things 
according to their just value. At our entrance into the 
world, we generally presume too much upon the goodness 
of other men, and so require too much ; afterwards vve fall 
into the opposite exaggeration, through the effect of the 
surprise which our mistake has made us experience. If we 
are sincere, we shall acknowledge that the vices with vi^hich 
we especially reproach the world, are those by which our 
vanity, our repose, or our pretensions have suffered : and 
that our judgment has a little the character of revenge. We 
are disconcerted with ourselves, and wreak this discontent 
upon others : we look at them through the medium of a 
chagrin, which springs from being ill at ease. We have 
hardly studied to discover and to note what society may 



SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 305 

contain of hidden virtues, of pure and just sentiments. Be- 
sides, how great is the weakness of our reason, if morality 
loses its authority in our eyes, because it loses its credit in 
the world ! Is worldly success necessary, as its sanction or 
its proof ? Does morality become an illusion, because some 
frivolous men misconceive it? If so, let us go upon the 
theatre of the world, as generous defenders of this miscon- 
cenceived cause, instead of flying, and yielding to pusillan- 
imous fears. In seeking to make it honored and attractive, 
we shall better feel all that it contains of the true, benefi- 
cial, and celestial ; we shall feel the necessity of supporting 
our defence of it by our character. The progress of philos- 
ophy and science is indebted chiefly to the controversies that 
truth has encountered ; each party has gathered new truths 
springing out of the discussions; morality may draw similar 
fruits from similar collisions. The good man will confirm 
the solidity of his principles by this noble contest ! he will 
learn to proclaim aloud the sacred maxims of duty in the 
face of human passion, and to do good for goodness' sake ; 
he will be inflamed v/ith new ardor for morality, when he 
sees it misunderstood, exiled, persecuted ; he will come 
from the field where he has devoted himself in its cause, 
more manly, great, and independent. 

The honor of carrying this kind of devotion to heroism 
is granted to but few ; it is a favor that Providence has 
reserved to those privileged souls who appear on earth as the 
glorious witnesses of eternal truth. But each of us, in his 
own circle, may participate in this glorious vocation ; each 
of us, in struggling against prejudice, vicious passion, indif- 
ference, and frivolity, may become a confessor of morality, 
fulfil a kind of appostleship, confirm it by his success and 
sacrifices ; and gather new strength in learning to resist. 

Society, which subjects us to numerous restraints, and 

to various contradictions, also gives a favorable exercise to 

Self-government. By a singular contradiction, we resign 

ourselves to trial, but generally disdain to draw advantage 

26* 



306 SELF-EDUCATION. 

from it ; spitefully constraining ourselves to make the sac- 
rifice to interest, to ambition, and especially to self-love, 
instead of making it a means of progress. But we might 
do voluntarily, what we do against our will, and accept oppo- 
sition sincerely, instead of limiting ourselves to a control of 
our words and manners. If we could employ it as an exer- 
cise of our virtue, the imposed constraint would become 
much less painful, and we should better attain the effect 
that we expect from it, since we should support it more 
gracefully. The life of anchorites has doubtless some 
striking self-denial; but in the midst of society, which 
seems to offer only dissipation and pleasure, there is also 
self-denial for those, who know how to understand and use 
it ; and though less singular, it is not always the less meri- 
torious. 

Society, then, is more favorable to our progress than we 
are willing to allow. Perhaps we would excuse ourselves 
for not profiting by the aid which it offers us. It is true, 
that the undertaking is difficult; but these difficulties are 
amons^ the conditions of its advantacres. Hence we should 
not only be mature and strong, when we go upon this stage, 
but we should continue to strengthen and mature our- 
selves. Society is a sea, and we should not embark on it 
without provision ; a field of combat, in which we should 
not present ourselves without arms. We should have a 
strong foundation of benevolence towards persons, and se- 
verity in principles, and should renew this foundation con- 
tinually ; for it is that which society tends continually to 
break down. It is necessary to nourish and to reanimate 
ourselves incessantly by meditation ; for society is dissipa- 
tion renewed in a thousand forms ; it is an immense tumult. 
We must enter it self-possessed, for it tends to take from 
us every thing that is original. We must also grow un- 
ceasingly, for obstacles are multiplied unceasingly. In 
order to prevent, in their origin, 'the painful impressions 
that we receive in intercourse with the world, we should 



SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 307 

watch over ourselves, and take care lest disorder and agi- 
tation be introduced into our moral faculties, by the agi- 
tation which reigns around us ; for this is the commence- 
ment of all the moral maladies, whose contagion threatens 
us; in agitation, the good resolutions on which we had been 
nourished are dissipated ; the plans we had conceived are 
forgotten ; we are carried away without perceiving it, sur- 
prised without defence ; every day we go back some steps, 
and with no design of corrupting ourselves, we yield to cor- 
ruption unawares. If a sudden ray of light comes to avert 
the peril and reveal the losses already experienced, our 
agitation increases through regret ; and opposition being 
raised between the old sentiment of good, and the feeble 
habits just contracted, confusion is soon at its acme, and 
we finish by turning away our thoughts from ourselves, to 
escape a troublesome spectacle. So a want of attention 
brings gradually the loss of fortune. The wise man in the 
midst of the world, where he is unperceived, and where he 
is glad to be unknown, free and peaceful in his obscurity, 
attentive and self-possessed in the midst of agitation, re- 
quiring little and having little to defend, an impartial wit- 
ness, an indulgent judge, observes, without allowing him- 
self to be carried away. As the scrutinizing glance of 
science finds an inexhaustible mine of discoveries in the 
scenes of nature, whose aspect distracts the superficial eye 
of ignorance ; so the wise man finds in society a multitude 
of instructions. Like the scientific man, he can also turn 
his observations to useful results. What experience the 
scene of human life may offer to him, who knows how to 
study it! How many circumstances might turn the frivo- 
lous man into himself, and draw him to the most profound 
reflections, if he consented for an instant to connect with 
their causes the effects around him ! In the midst of so 
many wanderings and errors, the wise man perceives the 
part which belongs to frivolity, to ignorance, to weakness, 
and thus measures all the seriousness of their consequences. 



308 



SELF-ED UCATION. 



He discovers in them, perhaps, natural qualities, turned in 
a wrong direction, or in disproportion. He looks upon 
corruption to see in its painful consequences, its perhaps 
hidden origin ; and upon intrigue, to estimate more justly 
its baseness, even in its success, by considering the means 
which have led to it. He constrains himself to see vice, 
perhaps triumphant, in order to know how to detest it as it 
deserves ; but he finds out also those obscurer and humble 
virtues, which fill his heart with joy. The wise man passes 
through the world without confounding himself with it; 
self-distrustful, yet courageous, he goes on with vigilance, 
and he leaves it with satisfaction, all moral truths having 
acquired new force and innumerable corollaries. 

Fear, and a disgust with the world, often seek solitude. 
The most diverse, even the most contrary causes, inspire 
the want of it; but the expectation which leads to it is not 
always satisfied. The timid seek in it a refuge against 
dangers they cannot face ; the tender and delicate, against 
the arrows that wound them ; those deceived by cruel mis- 
understandings, try to forget society ; inexperience shuts 
itself up as in a haven from storms; grief buries itself as in 
a tomb ; a melancholy imagination hopes to find solace or 
liberty. The wicked and the innocent alike seek solitude, 
— the former to expiate their crimes, when tormented by 
remorse, the latter to taste more freely a celestial and pure 
happiness. In consequence of the storms caused by violent 
passions, dejection, prudence, the reaction of violent will, 
bring to solitary life characters which seem least fitted for 
it. Not only ambition and vanity, when disappointed, are 
driven into solitude; selfish misanthropy, all unsocial hu- 
mors, demand less what it can give than mere isolation. 
They are dragged into it, perhaps, to be punished. Wis- 
dom also sighs after solitude, seeking retreat as the sanctu- 
ary of meditation, and finding in it the calmness and inde- 
pendence necessary to regulate the moral faculties. Lofty 
souls love retirement, because all their elevated thoughts 



SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 309 

and sentiments may be developed there, and they can better 
enjoy themselves. 

But the influence which solitude exercises, depends upon 
the motives which lead to it, the dispositions which are car- 
ried into it, and the manner in which we use it. 

We have spoken of the advantages of solitude : we must 
now speak of its dangers ; especially we must insist upon 
the conditions that solitude requires, in order to be profita- 
ble, — indeed, in order not to be fatal. 

Feebleness, in seeking solitude, destroys its resources, by 
losing every opportunity of exercising courage. We often 
find within, more terrible enemies than those without, with 
less means to escape or combat them. These enemies still 
pursue their victim, and, taking him captive, fall upon him. 
We hope for repose, but sink into exhaustion, or wander in 
delirium. We hope for consolation, but we have deprived 
ourselves of activity and of beneficence, the truest consola- 
tions; we flatter ourselves that we shall gather instruction, 
but we see ourselves plunged into darkness, and soon the 
darkness is peopled with a thousand phantoms. Solitude 
is useful only to him, who has a sincere desire of becoming 
better; miserable is he, who imprisons himself with his 
passions, without being resolved to subdue them. 

But it is not sufficient to enter retirement, even with the 
right disposition of soul ; it is necessary to be provided 
with aliment for the mind and the heart; otherwise we run 
the risk of finding ourselves in a desert, where we shall 
perish with inanition. In order to draw from retirement 
the advantages which it promises, the moral faculties must 
have acquired a certain degree of energy. Otherwise we 
shall soon be fatigued with the monotony of the objects and 
continuity of situation, and shall fall into lethargy. We 
must be mild and amiable, also, in order to make the best 
use of solitude. We must be serene, we must be to ourselves 
an easy host, not a ferocious jailor. We must have a con- 
stant and well-ordered activity, and a wise self-distrust, in 



310 SELF-EDUCATION. 

order to prevent illusions, 'idle speculations, blind presump- 
tion, and pride. Without rules, limitations, and vigilance, 
the liberty of solitude will become a peril ; dogmatism and 
the exaggeration of a false enthusiasm will germinate; the 
virtues will be mixed with the passions, and imbibe their 
vehemence. We shall grow excessively severe, both towards 
others and ourselves ; we'shall pursue a chimerical perfection, 
and at the same time unconsciously become accomplices of 
enterprises the most fatal to mankind : thus solitude may 
become either a severe school, in which the moral educa- 
tion is finished, or an abyss, in which happiness, reason, 
and virtue are swallowed up. There have not only sprung 
from it the greatest discoveries of genius and the most be- 
neficent displays of eminent character, but it has nourished 
also those terrible passions whose excesses have astonished 
mankind.* 

Solitude is therefore not only useful but difficult ; it re- 
quires proper preparation and precautions; and, although 
indispensable, is not a complete and sufficient education. 
Doubtless it alone can give to the Love of Excellence all its 
energy, to reflection, all the profoundness of which our 
nature is capable ; to the internal virtues relating to self- 
communion, the highest degree of developement : to Self- 
government, all the authority which it may receive from 
contemplation and self-knowledge ; and to the heroism of 
virtue, its most substantial aliment. But protracted solitude 
will deprive us of the aids of experience, of virtuous activity, 
and of the useful influence which Self-government draws 

* Estimable philosophers have conceived the idea of employing absolute 
retirement as a means of correction for great criminals, and of employing it 
also as a means of chastisement. It is a noble thought, to make the pun- 
ishment the means of correcting crime. In the application of this means, 
however, we should consider to what characters this regimen is applied , 
and modify the discipline according to circumstances. We should take 
care that absolute solitude do not become a fatal idleness, and that there 
be a proper proportion of bodily labor, and a course of reading favorable to 
salutary reflection. 



SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. 311 

from the shock of external obstacles. We shall arrive 
more promptly and easily to a partial perfection, very well, 
doubtless, for those whose duties lie in a confined sphere; 
but we shall not so well attain to that general perfection, 
which, embracing all application, is the destination of those 
whose duties call them to spread themselves abroad. A 
regimen of continued solitude may be useful, but it is an 
exception. Occasional solitude is the rule for most, men. 
Alternate retirement and society is to moral progress what 
the mixture of theory and observation is to the progress of 
the sciences. Solitude has its exaggerations, as theory its 
hypotheses. Solitude and theory may gather fruits for 
themselves; but their true and legitimate employment 
should be to prepare for the intercourse of the world and 
the arts of observation : deprived of the instrument of elab- 
oration, Ihe latter are only dissipation of heart and empiri- 
cism of intellect. 

Do you fear solitude ? This is an infallible sign that it 
is necessary to you ; you have not learnt to know yourself; 
and this again is a sign that you have a malady of soul, 
which solitude may discover to you, and perhaps will cure. 
With a reason strong, and a heart burning to do good, is 
life before you ? Then go into solitude, and prepare the 
means of usefulness. Are you called upon to take some 
important resolution? Are you placed in unexpected and 
difficult circumstances? Go into solitude, and consult your 
strength, foresee and combine your plans of conduct. Have 
you seen much of life ? In solitude you can put in order your 
painful experiences, and returning to the world you may 
apply and prove the labors of retirement. Solitude suits 
especially both youth and old age. But the serious drama 
of middle life must have its intervals. There must be rest- 
ing-places in the career. Go into solitude on the evening 
and the morning of every great event of your life. 

Do you wish to receive all the utility both of solitude and 
of society? Endeavour, when in society, to preserve an 



312 SELF-EDUCATION. 

inward solitude, and in solitude, to create a world such as 
you will one day live in. Live in society as if you would 
quit it to-morrow, and in retirement as if to-morrow you 
were to communicate with men, and to serve them. 



CHAPTER IV. 



PLAN OF LIFE. 



The love of power and wealth take every means to ac- 
complish their ends, making every thing in contact with 
them, — affections, relations, pleasures, events, the smallest 
circumstances, subservient. Why may we not apply the 
same method to accomplish our moral perfection, the most 
real of our interests, instead of neglecting it so strangely? 
In our life, the different parts have, morally speaking, no 
connexion ; there is no design : the elements of excellence 
are thrown here and there at hazard, so that every thing is 
fruitless, which might do us good, and every thing injurious 
becomes still more dangerous. Through our want of pre- 
caution, what is acquired is dissipated : we are astonished 
at every thing, because we have been improvident : nothing 
instructs us, because it is not in its right place. 

This is not the place to inquire, whether school education 
has, in general, sufficient reference to the future situation 
of each individual ; whether indeed it is really a cultivation 
of the faculties, tending to give them a harmonious devel- 
opement. There would indeed be a great deal to say upon 
this subject : we can easily see what an influence a want of 
appropriateness may exercise on the ensuing life. When 
entering on the scene of things unprepared, we are the more 
disconcerted in proportion as we have labored hitherto : we 
are in the case of a traveller, who should receive for his 



PLAN OF LIFE. 313 

guidance a map of a different country from that in which he 
is to travel. But if, by a happy chance, school education 
should have given us the most appropriate preparation, we 
must yet do for ourselves what no instructer can do for us, 
— we must add to it our own labor, and make up beforehand 
a plan of conduct. By doing this well, we may even supply 
the defects of imperfect education. 

To arrange the general plan of life, we must embrace 
the whole of our vocation at once, in a preliminary medita- 
tion. External circumstances, that we cannot control, we 
must accept as conditions. It requires some wisdom, how- 
ever, to distinguish the circumstances, to which we must 
submit, from those which we can modify or overcome. We 
must examine, in the next place, what consequences, result- 
ing from inevitable circumstances, are inevitable : for con- 
sequences often differ accordingly as we check or second 
them. We can judge, then, what is possible for us. But, 
in accepting the necessary conditions of things, in which we 
can change nothing, we should separate the advantao-es 
and disadvantages, which we may turn aside or obtain. 
Here commences what is at our free disposal. Passing 
then to those external circumstances, which we can subject, 
we judge better of the means of subjecting them effectually; 
we shall see how we can act upon them, and render them 
tributary to our progress. Thus necessity assigns to us 
bounds within which we are placed, that we may not ex- 
haust ourselves in a useless struggle ; and wisdom indicates 
to our hopes the sphere in which we may exercise prudence 
and courage. But if we cannot discern the boundaries of 
necessity and wisdom, we shall frequently either consume 
ourselves in agitation, fighting without necessity ; or, by an 
unfortunate indolence, accept as necessity what we might 
prevent or change. 

Necessity has not the same extent for all men, and it 
often happens, that its dominion is enlarged at the expense 
of that of wisdom. Circumstances originally in our power, 
27 



314 SELF-EDUCATION. 

become necessities by means of habit ; our imprudence 
increases the number of these chains, and we often suffer 
for a long time the consequences of the error of a moment. 

In the class of necessities, we rank all the circumstances 
which depend upon birth, temperament ; our native country, its 
institutions, laws, and usages ; family relations, rank in life, 
^c. ; also, the natural limitations of the faculties of the hu- 
man race and of the individual. The circumstances more or 
less under our control, are the choice of a profession, habitual 
relations, connexions of intimacy, the employment of time, 
the regulation of expenses, the regimen of life, the direction 
given to our reading and conversation, &c. It will not 
be enough that all these contribute to our improvement : all 
these elements should harmonize with our necessary condi- 
tion ; each should have its right place, its proper time, 
its appropriate measure and proportion. This order will 
greatly facilitate our progress ; for extraordinary efforts are 
sometimes lost, for mere want of method and arrangement. 

But in planning our conduct, like the general who plans 
his campaign, we cannot foresee every thing, and it will be 
dangerous to think we have foreseen every thing. Every 
day the course of events will explain what was before un- 
certain, change what existed, open an unexpected future. 
At the principal epochs of life we ought to resume the same 
labor, completing and rectifying our plan, according to the 
instructions of experience and the new state of things. At 
certain times we must look back upon our route. At these 
times it is essential to put the past and future face to face, 
and to make the revision and examination of the first con- 
duce to the provisions of the second. This is the peculiar 
office of moral meditations. We need not go to books for 
subjects of meditation ; daily experience and self-inspection 
indicate what are the defects and the virtues, which we 
should take for our text, and what it is important for us to 
consider. We might say of some preachers that they 
seem to preach for the absent, rather than for those who 



PLAN OF LIFE. 315 

hear them : and, in like manner, we often meditate upon 
virtues which we are not called upon to exercise, while we 
are on the eve of needing light and strength, which we 
neglect to provide for ourselves. In short, our moral sur- 
veys should be subjected to a regular method, and the 
plans of detail should have reference to the general plan ; 
that every day may gather the fruits of the preceding day, 
or prepare the fruitfulness of the day that is to succeed. 
Benjamin Franklin has given, in his Memoirs, a remarkable 
example of the application of such a system to the conduct 
of life. The example is the more useful, as it is accom- 
panied by the results which its author gathered from it. 
It has authority, in proportion to his simplicity and rectitude. 
But we must combine this system each in his own way, 
and according to his character and situation. There is no 
universal archetype, which is complete, or which can be 
used by all. Any plan is good, which is adapted to our 
wants, if it is methodically conceived, and perseveringly 
executed. There are two virtues, which Benjamin Frank- 
lin did not put into his tablets, which some persons should 
place first; — patience and self-vigilance. 

The first object in a well-concerted system of conduct 
should be the proper employment and distribution of time. 
There have been many rules given for this : we shall add 
but a few ; one is, to make our employments succeed each 
other in such a way, as to aid each other reciprocally ; a 
second is, to have a flexible plan, that is to say, such a plan, 
that we can invert the order of exercises on sufficient oc- 
casions; and thirdly, we should find the means of making 
a good use of leisure. 

The regular return of the same employments, has the 
immense advantage of rendering execution easy and rapid. 
But it is extremely inconvenient to become the slave of this 
regularity, so that we cannot act when put out of our accus- 
tomed place and time; and it is the more inconvenient, as 
we are the less sure of remaining masters of our condition. 



316 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Order should not descend to too minute details ; it should 
not give too much importance to the distribution of acces- 
sories : it should not impose useless chains. These exag- 
o-erations are inconvenient and vexatious to those who live 
with us ; they consume the strength which real duties claim ; 
they give to virtue something of puerility and constraint ; 
they retard us in the moment of action. It often happens, 
that those who superstitiously cling to these details, when 
they are forced to change, know not where they are ; they 
have lost all moral direction ; they are troubled, discouraged, 
and lose the faculty of doing right. The order of the wise 
man in life is like the order of nature in its works. If the 
latter is bound by general laws, which are constant, it is 
not a dry and rigorous" symmetry, where every thing is im- 
movable; it is a hidden though perfect order, admitting 
liberty, ease, and bending to every thing, because it can 
foresee every thing ; it is an order which we feel and judge 
of by its effects, but which does not fatigue the eye by a 
scaffolding of rules ; it is, in a word, an order animated 
and full of life. 

It would be useful to consider the art of conversation as 
a means of improvement. A considerable portion of our life 
is sjiven to conversation, which we abandon to chance ; yet 
there are few things, from which wisdom might draw more 
advantage. Here, doubtless, we should guard ourselves 
against the exaggerations of method and regularity. Con- 
versation resists a rigorous discipline. To turn it into a 
methodical dialogue, would be to rob it of its naturalness 
and that truth of expression which produces communion of 
mind and heart. But without robbing it of this character, 
we can make it useful. Without pedantry, with modesty, 
even with gayety, we can put in circulation true thoughts 
and honorable sentiments. Sincere good-will serves as an 
easy passport. And we cannot more delicately flatter, than 
by giving others an opportunity of telling us what they know. 
Every thing may be thrown into conversation, and every 



1>LAN OP LIFE. 317 

thing may be gathered from it. It yields favorable occa- 
sions to draw close the ties which unite us to others, and 
to discover the means of serving them. The talent of con- 
versation is a great power in the actual state of society. 
Vanity and ambition have used it. Can we do nothing for 
the interests of truth and virtue by means of it ? The lib- 
eral-minded and generous can alone comprehend all the 
privileges of speech, and draw from it the means of moral 
conquests ; for, in order to captivate, they need only be 
known ; in showing themselves superior, they are so natu- 
ral, that, as they rise without effort, so they are contem- 
plated without envy ; always simple and sincere, they en- 
iighten and persuade by the force of their own conviction, 
and by the ascendency of the sentiments which inspire 
them : we feel better in their presence, because we are per- 
mitted to sympathize with them; they are the altars where 
our hearts are kindled and reanimated ; they exercise an 
apostleship upon earth ; the admiration which they excite, 
and the affections which they receive, being confounded 
with the Vv'orship of excellence, and language from their 
mouths becoming a celestial messenger, who announces the 
blessings of virtue. The good, also, supply, by the influence 
of their character, the want of a talent for conversation : 
we listen more willingly to the unpretending, whom we do 
not suspect of any artifice ; and the desire of being useful 
has in itself a kind of eloquence. A talent for listening may 
contribute to our progress, and furnish us with the means of 
being useful. To listen to a sufferer is often the means of 
consoling him. In the manner of listening there is something 
which testifies good-will, and which serves to obtain it. In 

i the study of mankind, the ear is what the eye is in the study 

p of nature. 

Such is the power order exercises over us, that the mere 
image of order, presented in the objects around us, favors 
meditation, disposes us to self-collectedness, moderation, 
27* 



318 SELF-EDUCATION. 

respect, and many honorable sentiments. Hence the moral 
effect resulting from the monuments of architecture. 

This powerful influence of order upon our faculties, ex- 
plains an important observation, of which our experience 
of the world offers a frequent application. It is this, that 
submission to duty is a great advantage, considered merely 
in relation to the developement of activity. Soldiers are 
less fatigued when they march to the sound of music : man 
in ordinary life is less fatigued when he is aided by the 
melody of virtue. Those who have duties, have fixed 
points, their regulators in indecision, and supplying inex- 
haustible motives of action. He who is without duties to 
fulfill, is often fatigued with the void and uncertainty of 
life: he demands unceasingly "What is the object?" He 
often becomes a burthen to himself The same action is 
done more joyfully and satisfactorily, when we feel, in do- 
ing it, that we do our duty. Men without duties seek to 
supply their place with an occasional mania. 

In the general plan of life, duties should form the founda- 
tions of the edifice ; the Love of Excellence will achieve 
the rest. 

Moral progress being internal harmony, and a well-order- 
ed life being external harmony, the one accords naturally 
with the other : they are the picture and its frame. 



CHAPTER V. 



DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 

Our condition in life furnishes us the most important part 
of the circumstances which educate us. It influences our 
character more than all the lessons of our masters; and, 
though independent of our will in some respects, yet it is 



DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS, 319 

modified by our cooperation, and even by the manner in 
which we resign ourselves to what is inevitable. 

How admirable are the designs of Providence I Even the 
inequalities of human condition may draw closer the ties of 
humanity. Were there no moral sentiments, inequality of 
condition might, indeed, produce too great an excitement 
of emulation. But, as the case is, it enhances the merit of 
probity and the virtue of contentment : it gives rise to the 
exchange of confidence and good faith, of generosity and 
gratitude. In the latter intercourse, especially, the benefit 
is evidently mutual. The generous not only render impor- 
tant services, but they receive them from the example of 
those they benefit. Beside the affections which cannot be 
bought, they receive the most necessary instruction : — les- 
sons of patience and of fortitude, and the sublime knowl- 
edge which springs from adversity. Ignorant of life, in the 
presence of misfortune we learn to understand it ; ignorant 
of our own hearts, the sight of the unfortunate reveals them 
to us. But in order to measure and appreciate the means of 
moral progress, afforded by the different conditions of life, let 
us consider the means of doing good, which each of them 
offers. 

The usefulness of services is different for those who render 
and those who receive them, and it varies according to their 
nature and extent. Services, rendered from compulsion, may 
corrupt the receiver by the temptation to pride, and degrade 
him who renders them by placing him in dependence. This 
ganger increases for the former in proportion as the services 
are more important, and for the latter, as the object of them 
is sordid. Voluntary services, on the contrary, render the 
one party disinterested, and the other grateful. Services 
of a moral and intellectual nature contribute to the progress 
of those that render them, by developing activity of mind, 
as well as by drawing more closely the ties which unite 
men. We learn better and learn anew what we teach to 
others ; and are more deeply penetrated with the Love of 



320 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Excellence, when endeavouring to inspire others with it. 
But what snares does not pride spread for those who may 
serve others in this elevated sphere ! How much must they 
guard against the love of power, and a want of indulgence ! 
How carefully should they avoid believing themselves better 
than others! Services, which have a more material charac- 
ter, degrade the condition of those who render them, and 
only serve as a nourishment to the selfishness of those who 
receive them. Services, rendered to a single individual^ 
may consist with a most lively affection, but often suppose a 
dependence which threatens dignity of character. Services', 
rendered to a whole community, have something in them most 
noble, but it is more rarely that they are rightly appreciated. 

Two other views present themselves, together with the 
preceding, which concur with them in determining the 
influence of the social relations on our improvement; one 
consists of the wants they excite in us, the other in the 
obstacles they oppose to us. Every want may become a 
principle of activity, or a cause of dependence, as it is more 
or less hostile or generous, more or less pure or gross. If 
the obstacles oppose moral developements, they will doubt- 
less be unfortunate ; but if they only oppose the pretensions 
of selfishness, though they may irritate the passions, they 
will favor virtue; — if they are of a nature that they ought 
to be, or can be, surmounted, they will 'exercise our cour- 
age, and strengthen Self-government. 

But, and it is this which it is of importance above all to 
impress deeply upon our minds, whatever may be the dan- 
ger or the advantage of our situation in society, there is none 
so unfavorable that we cannot obtain from it the means of 
becoming better, none so favorable but that in it we may 
morally perish. Our destiny is really in our own hands. The 
study of the advantages and disadvantages of different con- 
ditions is useful, however, to guide us, when, as is sometimes 
the case, we can choose our condition ; and to assist us in 
reaping all its advantages, when we cannot do so. 



DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 321 

In general, where the greatest aids are found, the great- 
est dangers also are found, and the greatest duties. What 
are, in truth, the superior conditions of society, if there is 
not a mission conferred upon them, for the benefit of soci- 
ety itself? This is no less evident as regards those who are 
endowed with the gifts of fortune, than as regards those 
who are gifted with rank and power. Both are called to 
exercise patronage and fulfill a sort of guardianship. It is 
not suflicient for the former to make their authority subser- 
vient to the benefit of all. Because they are the strongest, 
they owe support and protection to the feeble ; because they 
are more elevated, they owe the instruction of good example 
to all. It is not enough for the rich to be beneficent ; they 
must serve as instruments for the developement and diffusion 
of useful things. The superior classes rise above society, 
like the clouds above the earth, to diffuse an abundant dew. 
What noble and beautiful duties, what a magnificent pre- 
rogative has been assigned them by Providence ! The illu- 
sions of vanity, the selfishness of power and sensuality, the 
fatal error which would lead them to appropriate to them- 
selves the favors of fortune, which they only receive as a 
trust, these are their dangers ! The absence of obstacles, 
the facility of obtaining every thing, — these may still more 
increase their dangers. They may become weak, because 
nothing resists them. More than ordinary virtue is there- 
fore nesessary to them. Among their supports, the first 
rank is due to their remarkable opportunities for doing 
good ; for nothing has so restoring an effect as the exercise 
of generosity. In giving, we learn to love ; in aiding others, 
we become strong. Knowledge also gathers, from all parts, 
around him who is placed in an elevated situation. He has 
leisure to cultivate his faculties ; he embraces a more ex- 
tended horizon ; elegance of manners, and the habits of 
high life, tend to cherish in him nobleness of feeling; the 
attention of which he is the object, invites him to merit 
love by real claims of consideration and esteem. Every 



322 SELF-EDUCATION. 

thing, even to the luxuries of the arts, surrounding him with 
images of beauty, favors the principle of generous emotions, 
if he will but allow these impressions to penetrate his soul. 

But the most general condition of man, mediocrity of 
rank and fortune, offers the most security, giving support 
and counsel, and imposing moderation upon desire. In 
this double relation, it favors calmness and internal free- 
dom. Its obscurity withdraws us from the yoke of opinion : 
simplicity is its natural inheritance. Men in this condi- 
tion, practising their virtues without opportunity for display, 
less frequently find their motives corrupted by the desire of 
praise and popularity ; they have more regard for morality, 
lor the laws, for the lawful authority of which the general 
interest is constantly the object. They are strong by lean- 
ing upon the limits which circumscribe them. Their activity 
is constantly excited by the view of what may be acquired ; 
perseverance is supported by the slowness of the progress 
possible. They understand justice, because they under- 
stand equality: they enjoy sympathy. The social relations 
allow them more freedom and self-forgetfulness : — in ele- 
vated situations there is isolation, in equality, union. The 
affections of individuals are more intimate, as situations are 
similar, and there is more in common. In a word, mediocrity 
has the advantage of profiting by universal experience, and 
having no untrodden paths to attempt; with the honors, it 
escapes the dangers of the privileged classes. Mediocrity 
has, however, its disadvantages. It encloses us in a circle, 
whose uniformity and monotony favor blind habits of routine 
and a deadness of the active powers. It places us on a 
stage where similarity of situations and conformity of move- 
ments dispose to servile imitation. Leading constantly to 
details, it exposes us to give them too much importance, and, 
by contracting the view of the mind, it may indirectly lower 
the tone of sentiment. Thus wisdom, which recommends 
us to accept with content the limits which mediocrity im- 
poses on us, recommends us also to give to our souls inde- 



DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 323 

pendence and nobleness, by the exercise of virtue, even in 
those circumstances which seem least favorable. 

In proportion as we descend to the inferior conditions, 
we see that the sphere of existence for each individual con- 
tracts, privations and restraints increase, and external aid 
becomes less abundant. Knowledge, one of the most pre 
cious aids, especially diminishes ; and duties, though they 
become more austere, become also more simple : and though 
what is required of us is more difficult, the law of relative 
progress requires fewer things. A courageous patience is 
required in that situation, whose circumstances tend to pro- 
duce it. Some of the knowledge which is wanting would 
perhaps augment the bitterness of destiny ; the experience 
of adversity, which is the most important to progress, is not 
wanting, and from this m.ay be acquired a science, which 
can be obtained from no master or book. Though many 
advantages are refused, those which belong to laborious 
habits are not wanting ; and fruits may be gathered from 
these, by attention and care. 

Happy is he^ who has known from youth the rigor of for- 
tune ! He was prepared for the hardships of life in this moral 
gymnasium ; he was familiarized early with serious ideas ; 
he had a glimpse of th« secrets of human destiny ; his vir- 
tues took profound root; in short, he received a manly ed- 
ucation. Gradually admitted to a happier situation, he will 
be less exposed to be corrupted ; he will be better disposed 
to make it fruitful for others as well as for himself; he has 
learned to have a fellow-feeling with misfortune. And such 
is the natural progress of things, that the laborious and 
economical man will advance gradually to competence, un- 
less crossed by unforeseen accidents. 

The alternation of success and reverse is useful. We 
complain of the inconstancy of fortune, but its constancy 
would corrupt us more. Success and reverse enlighten us 
by their contrast : judging better of events we understand 
how to resist them, and hovv to make them serve our pur- 
poses. 



324 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



Could similar considerations be equally applied to the 
various professions of life, they would form, by their devel- 
opement, a new branch of the economical sciences. We 
should see on the one hand what aid each profession brings, 
or what obstacles it opposes to moral progress, and the 
means of rendering this aid more efficacious, and of over- 
coming these obstacles : we should see on the other hand 
how the moral progress of individuals gives to every profes- 
sion the highest degree of usefulness, and makes it con- 
tribute to the general prosperity ; and hence, we should 
come to the result, that good books and good examples, 
which develope in society patience, perseverance, probity, 
method, and other virtues, count among the means by which 
the common treasury is augmented, quite as much as ma- 
chines, and mechanical arts, although political economists 
do not deign to accord a place in their calculations to moral 
principles. In recognising that man is the principal instru- 
ment in every production, and that he is governed by mo- 
tives and the light of reason, we should come to the func-^ 
tions of the moral agent. It is true, that these views, prop- 
erly treated, would change the basis of many theories, and 
contradict more than one system. 

The generally admitted distinction between the libera] 
and mechanical professions is not so decided in reality as 
it at first appears, for even in those which require essen- 
tially labor of mind, there is almost always a concurrence of 
mechanical operations ; and in those which are composed 
essentially of manual labor, there is almost always some 
participation of intelligence ; while between these two ex- 
tremes the two elements are combined in every different 
proportion. But by means of the multiplication and progress 
of the mechanical powers, the mechanical professions are 
every day approaching the liberal professions; and man, 
learning that the part which belongs to him in the operations 
of industry, consists in directing, recovers his dignity in 
the exercise of his faculties, and becomes, at the same time, 
a more useful asrent. 



DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 325 

The more the mind is exercised in our profession, what- 
ever it may be, the better it is for our moral progress ; indi- 
vidual dignity is better preserved ; we feel more our inde- 
pendence ; our active faculties take a higher flight ; being 
more enlightened, we feel called upon to become better : we 
also find ourselves more wise ; and all favors seem reserved 
to these beautiful applications of human activity. IJut with 
these advantages, there is always danger of abuse. The 
seductions of vanity, and the passion for success, seek and 
seize their victims. The balance which ought to be pre- 
served between the intellect and the heart, is easily destroy- 
ed, when the directions of wisdom do not constantly come 
to reestablish it. The generous affections ought then to 
keep pace with intellectual activity. Nothing is more 
fatal than talent devoted to the service of selfishness. 

But the liberal professions ought to be discriminated, in 
their turn, according to the kind of direction, which they 
tend to give to the intellectual faculties. Some especially 
favor vivacity of imagination, others the habit of specula- 
tion, or the spirit of observation, and thus react upon the 
culture of sensibility, or the developement of moral disposi- 
tions. A moral manual for artists, for example, would be 
filled with warnings against exaltation, restlessness of char- 
acter, and passion for applause. A moral manual for phy- 
sicians, would be filled with observations upon the art of 
consoling and encouraging those who suffer ; upon the dis- 
cretion which is due in return for confidence; upon the 
precautions to be taken, lest the habitual sight of suffering 
should stifle sensibility. How many indications would a 
moral manual for the bar contain, upon the manner of enno- 
bling and enlarging, by counsel, zeal, and disinterestedness, 
the assistance afforded to clients : how many observations 
would it contain upon the scrupulous observance of the rules 
of equity, upon the care which should be taken, lest arms 
are lent to the passions ! Would not manuals for men of 
letters also be useful, teaching them to preserve themselves 
28 



3*26 SELF-EDUCATION. 

from the tyranny of self-love, from dryness of heart, from 
the susceptibilities and animosities that too often spring 
out of rival pretensions ? Lastly, would not a manual 
for philosophers be useful, containing antidotes against 
pride, prescriptions for good faith, simplicity, severity, and 
distrust of themselves, indulgence towards others, and in 
which should continually be repeated the [truth, that, in 
the science of wisdom, the practice of excellence is the first 
source of light? 

In classing the professions, as we sometimes do, accord- 
ing to the false ideas of the world, discriminating those that 
are paid from those that are not, we seek a basis which 
has no reality. Whoever turns the fruits of his industry 
into the exchanges which compose general commerce, re- 
ceives pay ; that is to say, the just return for that which he 
delivers, whatever may be the name that he gives to it. 
There are only two exceptions to this universal condition; 
the one concerns those, who have the happiness of being 
able to give gratuitously (without accepting any return) 
every thing they put into circulation ; and this first excep- 
tion is very rare : the other concerns those who do not con- 
duce in any way by their own industry to the common wel- 
fare, but who, however honored by the prejudices of the world, 
only consume without producing. From the highest public 
officer to the most humble day-laborer, all in effect receive 
pay. It is not pay which can humble or degrade us ; but 
the spirit in which it is sought and received, in venal in- 
tentions, cupidity, servility of character. In this neces- 
sity, which the constitution of society and the nature of 
things imposes upon us, of receiving pay for labor, we are 
continually instructed, that it is our destiny to serve man- 
kind, either as a community, or as individuals. 

In some professions, however, the compensation attached 
to industry is more immediate, sensible, and frequently pre- 
sented. It is necessary, in those professions, to guard 
against the deleterious influence of sordid views. Interested 



DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 327 

motives contract the ideas, and freeze the heart. In vain this 
shameful motive seeks to raise itself in its own eyes, by the 
extent of its calculations ; the passion for gold acting upon 
a wider theatre, only produces greater ravages. A moral 
manual, destined for professions in which pecuniary inter- 
ests are perpetually put in play, would recommend the exer- 
cises that bring generous sentiments to bear against the 
contagion of cupidity : it would indicate how equity in 
transactions should be preserved by good faith, or ennobled 
by delicacy ; how in the employment of wealth, the influ- 
ence that springs from the means of acquiring it may be 
counterbalanced. 

In the professions which are calm and sedentary, whose 
operations are uniform, which are sheltered from the storms 
of passion, which afford facilities for regularity of life, it is 
necessary to guard against a moral lethargy, and habits 
which reduce existence to a sort of vegetation. In the 
professions, which are tumultuous and agitated, carrying us 
constantly into new scenes, fruitful in enjoyment, putting in 
play the active faculties, oifering occasions of exercising 
the most varied virtues, and protecting us against routine, 
we should guard against the distraction which dissipates 
thought and sentiment, and against restlessness and incon- 
stancy of character; we should be armed with a severe 
self-vigilance. 

Some professions have narrow prospects, are little subject 
to chance, and hardly promise any advancement ; protecting 
moderation, exercising perseverance, patience, and some- 
limes resignation. Others are placed among dangers and 
hopes, fruitful in emotions, powerfully exciting ardor of will? 
and energy of character. In the first we should guard against 
dejection, discouragement, apathy of heart ; and create for 
ourselves a future by the aflections. In the second, we 
should avoid rival jealousies, and preserve equanimity of 
soul. In the first, the Love of Excellence should be sup- 
ported against lethargic influences; in the second, by means 



328 SELF-EDUCATION. 

of Self-government, the seductions of fortune should be 
opposed by moderate desires. 

Some professions put us in contact with things ; others 
especially in connexion with men. In the first kind of pro- 
fessions, it is useful to consider what sort of objects we come 
in contact with, whether we are surrounded with images 
sad or agreeable, harmonious or discordant, noble or mean, 
elegant or gross, austere or voluptuous : also, all the influ- 
ence, however slight, that may be exerted upon our moral 
habits; and what care may be taken, lest we enervate, de- 
base, or corrupt ourselves, and how we may gather what 
may conduce to our elevation and purity of character. We 
should also consider the extent of our own power over 
things ; for method, and the habit of application, are pre- 
served by processes, which have the character of regularity, 
and are subjected to the rules of art and the genius of combi- 
nations. The sense of our own dignity, also, is preserved by 
the power which we exercise over matter, and the boldness 
of the transformations which we constrain it to undergo. 
Views of general utility are more habitually presented in the 
professions which have most connexion with the common 
prosperity : in these we find most occasions of cultivating 
elevation of sentiment. We have often remarked, that 
habitual communication with animals produces a sort of 
grossness of manners, — that the frequent sight and effusion 
of blood disposes to hardness ; and the first of these obser- 
vations may explain why our country people resemble so 
little those of pastoral poetry. Places in which we habitually 
reside, the objects we constantly see, secretly influence the 
dispositions of our mind and heart. The grave, simple, seri- 
ous manners of mariners, doubtless arise in part from their 
familiarity with danger, but partly from the imposing spec- 
tacle of a vast and uniform object. The artificial elegance, 
which luxury displays in our dwellings, does not cherish 
the same dispositions as the grace and majesty of nature. 
The obscure and sombre asylum of misery redoubles sadness 



DIFFERENT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 329 

and discouragement by the images it presents. Those who 
have written on preserving health, have spoken of the influ- 
ence exercised upon health by the habit of prolonging sleep 
during the day, and keeping awake during the ni2jht. This 
habit no less influences the dispositions of the mind and 
heart, leaving less freshness, simplicity, naturalness, and 
calmness to the faculties of the soul. Moralists recommend 
and with reason, habits of propriety and decency with 
respect to the body, which serves as a transient habitation to 
the immortal soul ; these habits of order should be observed 
even in poverty ; they keep alive the sentiment of order, and 
preserve self-respect. 

The relations in which the professions may place us with 
other men, are those of equality, superiority, or dependence. 
The relations of equality are more favorable to the affections, 
to confidence, to the sentiments of justice, they continue 
through life the numerous advantages that infancy gathers 
from a common education : but they expose us to hostile 
passions, and the inevitable shock of rivalries. In a situa- 
tion which gives us superiors, we should guard ourselves 
against servility and against irritation. In our relations 
with inferiors, we should be provided with equity, sweetness, 
and indulgence. The more dependence is undefined, the 
more it puff's up him for whose benefit it is established, and 
debases him who is subjected to it. But when dependence 
is founded upon the nature of an operation which requires a 
concurrence of efforts, and consequently distribution and 
organization, when he who presides is a chief rather than a 
master, and his functions are determined by a common in- 
terest, obedience and command are better explained, being 
better limited, and are less liable to wound and discourage in- 
feriors, or to flatter the passions of those who give directions. 
It is still to be considered whether our profession puts us 
in relation with what is estimable in men, or with their 
passions. In the first case, intercourse offers useful encour- 
agement ; in the second, it exposes to a fatal contagion. 
28* 



330 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Some professions rest upon confidence, and their success 
depends upon the extent of the confidence accorded to those 
who exercise them : such professions ofier continual encour- 
agement to qualities of character which merit esteem. Why 
have our blind and frivolous prejudices attempted to dis- 
honor certain professions, which have in them nothing im- 
moral ? Those who are condemned by us to render this 
kind of service, humiliated by us, or perhaps degraded in 
their own eyes, hence more easily become despicable. In 
the professions which associate us with others, we should 
consider whether the association favors the spirit of union, 
always so precious, or V esprit de corps, often so fatal ; and 
what direction it may give to this last. 

In public life are displayed the most brilliant qualities of 
character. It is the school for strength of character, reflec- 
tive courage, elevation and generosity of sentiment ; at least 
with those, who are penetrated with the duties that it im- 
poses, and who are on their guard against ambition. But 
it opens a career to the most vehement passions, and renders 
them more dangerous, as it offers precepts to justify, means 
to disguise, and often fatal success to recompense them. A 
good moral manual for public men would be a benefit to the 
whole of society, if read, meditated upon, and followed. 

Whenever institutions strengthen the ties, which attach 
the eitizen to his country, founding laws upon equity, and 
regulating the exercise of power by laws, each individual 
comprehends better the community of interests and the re- 
ciprocation of duties, drawing from the sentiments of patri- 
otism the aliment of virtuous affections, and from an enlight- 
ened submission to laws and magistrates, useful light upon 
morality; hence activity is displayed, talent emboldened, 
souls are elevated, ideas are extended. Strong and gener- 
ous institutions are the schools of great characters ; but they 
require a soil prepared for them : they cannot grow upon ve- 
nal intentions, lust of pleasure, and calculations of self-inter- 
est. Under such institutions the moral progress of individ- 



DIFFERFNT HUMAN CONDITIONS. 331 

uals, and the general progress of society correspond to each 
other, and lend mutual aid. Since these institutions have 
for their vital principle the protection assured to the gener- 
al interest, the education of a public man should consist in 
the exercises of entire disinterestedness, and he would find 
in his functions, when faithful to their spirit, a constant 
exercise of justice and benevolence. The sentiment of the 
public good is one of the most powerful antidotes against the 
selfish passions, against every thing which materializes or 
degrades the character. There is, then, a tie more strict 
than we imagine between public and private virtue ; they 
have a common source. A purified morality alone creates 
that political conscience, which is too rare; which sacrifi- 
ces to the good of all, individual selfishness in all its forms ; 
for it alone teaches the citizen to proclaim and exercise his 
rights as a consequence of his duties, the magistrate to 
consider his authority as a message confided to him by so- 
ciety, the delegate of the people to recognise in legal author- 
ity a necessary pledge, the delegate of power to recognise 
in collective or individual rights a deposit, which he is 
charged to protect, and all public men to despise and brave 
the will of faction, and to guard themselves from the party 
spirit, which corrupts patriotism, agitates opinion, adulter- 
ates character, and becomes a source of intolerance and 
injustice. 

Many of the professions have manuals prepared to guide 
them in the operations of art. Moral manuals w^ould indi- 
cate the duties which belong particularly to each profession, 
the manner of fulfilling them, and the advantages to be 
drawn from their fulfillment. Thus each one may take a 
more just, and, at the same time, a more elevated idea of 
his condition, considering it as a means of accomplishing 
his destiny as a human being, of becoming better and more 
useful to others. The different professions, like different 
nations, have each its peculiar physiognomy, manners, 
habits, customs, relations, even language. The comic 



332 SELF-EDUCATION. 

writers have seized upon these to ridicule them ; the mor- 
alist might gather and promulgate the code of duties, which 
are peculiar to each of the professions. To the industrious 
professions, for instance, he would speak of method, activi- 
ty, vigilance, prudence, faithfulness, delicacy ; warning the 
heart against dryness, the mind against the narrow views, 
which spring from habits of calculation, intercourse with 
material things, and the debate of pecuniary interests. To 
the chief of an establishment he would speak of benevo- 
lence and protection towards dependents, the examples to be 
offered to them, and the manner in which family spirit 
may be diffused, where we now see only the exchange of 
labor and salary. If he should address himself to the pro- 
fessions, which are in daily communication with the public, 
how many grand views he could present of the manner of 
obtaining and justifying confidence, by discretion, devotion 
fidelity ; of the moral influences, which, in these relations 
can be indirectly spread abroad or received ; of the volun- 
tary assistance which zeal can join to necessary services ! 
If he should address himself, lastly, to those humble, obscure 
dependent professions, which our prejudices have degraded 
with what tender solicitude, with what eager interest would 
he endeavour to elevate in their own eyes those who exer- 
cise them ! What a reception he would give to those dis- 
graced beings. How he would love to encourage them ! 
He would show them how all their functions are ennobled 
by the sentiment of duty, how merit is measured by sacrifice, 
how loftiness of soul may be reconciled with exterior depen- 
dence, how virtue is more prized when under the veil of ob- 
scurity ; he would discover to them a treasury of the affec- 
tions, joy, and hope.* 

* When we consider that the persons employed in our domestic service 
are confided to our protection, under a moral relation, — when we reflect 
upon the influence that their character and habits may exercise over our 
children, we cannot be sufiiciently astonished at our culpable negligence 
of their improvement, of the indifference with which our public institutions 



LABOR. 333 

One of the most essential rules for drawing from our con- 
dition all its moral fruits, for guarding ourselves from its 
peculiar dangers, is to conform our sentiments, habits, and 
views to our condition. We should guard ourselves, how- 
ever, from misunderstanding this maxim, as condemning to 
servility of character the unfortunate. In the most humble 
condition, elevation of soul is the more necessary and de- 
sirable. 

We need not fear that it would break the ties of subordi- 
nation, or trouble the social hierarchy. True elevation of 
soul teaches contentment in adversity and obscurity. Your 
servant may be your superior in moral character and prac- 
tical virtue, but he will therefore only fulfill more constantly 
his duty towards you, and observe more exactly the consid- 
eration due to you. 



CHAPTER VI. 



LABOR. 

When we consider that labor is the condition to which 
most men are subjected, we are powerfully drawn to medi- 
tate upon a subject so much connected with our earthly 
destiny. At first sight, the philosophic friend of humanity 
is saddened at the view of so much fatigue ; especially when 
considering the kind of labors that form the general task, 
so monotonous, apparently so barren for the mind and heart. 
He asks with surprise, if this being, bent to the earth, or 
exercising himself in a workshop, and almost assimilated to 
mechanical instruments, is truly the immortal being, of 

and private usages appear to regard them. How little, for example, have 
we thought of preparing them, by a suitable education, for a kind of func- 
tions which demands such special qualities. 



334 SELF-EDUCATION. 

whose noble origin and august vocation he has conceived ; 
he demands how such a state of things can be reconciled 
with the dignity of our nature ; how moral progress can be 
possible to those who seem condemned to a life wholly ani- 
mal ; he asks if, in the high ideas he has formed of the 
designs of Providence concerning man, he has not been led 
away by beautiful but chimerical illusions. 

No ; he has not presumed too much upon the destination 
and dignity of man, or the hopes of improvement which are 
offered to him. Labor, if we see all the extent of its effects, 
far from destroying, confirms these views of wisdom. 

Man while here below is on all sides in contact, it is 
true, with material nature, depending upon it by his ear- 
liest wants, subjected to it by means of the impressions 
of his senses. But, by labor, material nature is subdued, 
conquered, transformed; the invisible powers of air and 
water are seized, and governed, and rendered fruitful; and 
man raises upon earth the immense monument which the 
arts of civilization have constructed for the use of human 
society. Thus the obscure labor of a simple individual 
takes a new character. But it may have still more extend- 
ed efTects. From this competence, this general prosperity, 
which the process of labor brings about, spring knowledge 
and all the moral influences developed by the social rela- 
tions. The labor of the many procures for some, leisure for 
meditation ; and the fruits of these meditations serve as 
moral aliment to the many, conducing to their improvement 
and happiness. Thus each one, by his labor, besides pro- 
ducing what is necessary for his physical existence, concurs 
also, indirectly, in providing the useful knowledge, in which, 
in many ways, he participates. 

Thus, every thing, in the constitution and movements of 
society, may be referred to labor : it is the universal lever 
of the power of man over nature, the source of every pro- 
duction. In this relation, every kind of labor acquires a 
character of nobleness, being elevated to the dignity of 



LABOR. 335 

virtue, becoming the fulfillment of a universal duty, and 
being converted into a contribution to society, to which 
we owe so much of what we are. We are too much accus- 
tomed to seek virtue only in extraordinary and brilliant ac- 
tions, in something out of the common course. But we 
should seek it in the most common actions that Providence 
has made a part of our destination. We should make it 
the very substance of our life, nor allow self-love to corrupt 
our notions of excellence. Labor is a virtue ; and this 
cheering thought changes entirely the point of view, under 
which man's destiny here below presents itself: for it is a 
virtue which is the patrimony of all, and especially of the 
most obscure, the most numerous, and the least favored by 
fortune. It is a virtue, which consecrates innumerable un- 
rewarded, unknown labors, which are even disdained by 
the world, though they are a contribution to the general 
prosperity. It is a virtue which impresses a moral character 
on occupations in appearance wholly material ; a virtue 
giving merit to actions that fill the largest part of our life, 
and which otherwise would have been done from mere ne- 
cessity, a virtue giving elevated motives for what we must 
at any rate do. The miner, buried in the earth, striking 
the rock with his hammer, and seeming rather to suffer 
punishment, than exercise industry, sees his existence re- 
animated, embellished by this cheering truth. A light, 
purer than the day-light of which he is deprived, shines 
into his subterranean cavern ; he cheerfully resumes the 
instrument, which had fallen from his discouraged hands, 
and says, " And I also accomplish a sacred law, imposed by 
my creator ! For me also, life is the novitiate of a higher 
destiny! " This ''working-day world" becomes a temple, 
whence arises the concert of a universal hymn, the hymn of 
submission to the supreme decree. Thus man raises his 
brow with a just loftiness. The creature of God is not left 
with a withered heart and broken spirit. Is it not even the 
work of creation that his hand adorns and brings to perfec- 



336 SELF-EDUCATION. 

tion 1 Is he not accomplishing the designs of the Creator? 
Is it not the great edifice of society, which he helps to raise? 
What a hidden value he discovers under these gross appear- 
ances ! This victory, gained over external nature, becomes 
the image and the emblem of the wise and sublime victory 
that should be gained over the senses and passions. The 
first labor also disposes the soul to the second. 

In labor there is a moral mystery, profound and serious ; 
it is a fundamental and necessary means of education for 
every individual. 

A fixed and regular occupation is indispensable to man. 
It prevents the disorder into which he is thrown by his 
impatience to move, combined with the uncertainty of his 
movements ; it relieves him from ennui ; it prevents his 
strength from being perhaps destroyed ; it preserves activity 
by regulating it and guarding it from error. Labor subjects 
the senses to a salutary regimen ; it teaches them, that they 
are not only instruments of enjoyment, but organs of action, 
and means of useful production. It is the school of sobri- 
ety and temperance, preventing and appeasing the storms of 
imagination, dissipating vain delusions, turning us from 
vague reveries, leading us back to reality, and giving au- 
thority to the teachings of practice. Exercises of labor 
cultivate attention by the application they demand, and con- 
strain us to practise perseverance, precision, method, and to 
enter into the secrets of method and perseverance, secrets so 
important to the wholeof our conduct. Labor restrains those 
secret desires, whose unregulated impetuosity would not be 
perhaps suihciently prevented by mere reason ; thus assist- 
ing wisdom to preserve moderation, and with it, inward 
peace, the balance of the faculties, and the health of the 
soul. 

Under the protection of serious and regular habits of 
labor, man tastes more security, being better defended 
against the passions; his feebleness finding a refuge, his 
effeminacy a remedy. Constrained to master himself 



LABOR. 337 

continually, struggling habitually with difficulties, suffering 
privation, especially of liberty, he is strengthened daily, and 
in proportion as these labors are painful, his will becomes 
powerful ; and by patience he acquires the vigor, which ren- 
ders him capable of perseverance. And in fact, the labo- 
rious, in inferior conditions, notwithstanding our disdainful 
prejudices, experience, generally, a sense of dignity, inward, 
peaceful, silent, unsuspected by the world, undiscovered by 
the superficial observer, but well known to those who can 
obtain their confidence ; they nourish a secret disdain 
for those, who, in the bosom of luxury, lead a life of indo- 
lence. 

Labor is the school of resignation ; it teaches us our depen- 
dence, and consequently our duties to others ; it corrects and 
punishes our vanity^ and constitutes a long, continued com- 
mentary on that leading truth, which defines human life as 
a great probation and a high preparation. 

Labor being the clearest and most legitimate origin of 
property, the laboring classes best understand the respect 
due to property, and, consequently, an important branch of 
the notions of justice. Accustomed to see in the advan- 
tages of life a merited recompense, they are generally friends 
of order ; the order of society being instituted to protect the 
labor of each, and to assure to him the products of his labor. 

In fulfilling this modest but continual duty of labor, man 
forms the most just ideas of virtue, and conceives its true 
essence, under three principal relations. Practising it as 
a severe regimen for restraining and repressing his ambition, 
he becomes convinced, that excellence is not founded upon 
opinion, or the applause of men, but is a reality ; that it is 
an ordinary, equal, constant thing ; that it ought to occupy 
every day, hour, instant of our life ; that our soul ought to 
respire it, as the body respires air ; and thus he discovers 
the most magnificent prerogative of our nature, that of con- 
secrating his existence to duty, by submitting through free 
29 



338 SELF-EDUCATION. 

will and reflection to the destiny marked out for him by his 
Creator. 

These considerations receive new consequence, when 
applied to the rural labors which are the habitual occupa- 
tion of the larger part of the human race. The life of the 
husbandman is a true moral education, if he knows how to 
gather the instruction which it affords : the variety of his 
cares, the productions which recompense his efforts, the 
regularity of the phenomena of which he is a witness, the 
different circumstances which call him to reflect upon the 
utility of order, of economy, of foresight, his need of other 
men, even when loaded with the gifts of nature, the mag- 
nificent scenes constantly presented to his eyes, the testimo- 
nies of the goodness and wisdom of the Creator to be gath- 
ered up on every side, the great harmony of creation dis- 
played around him ; all these are lessons, and what lessons ! 

But all means of progress have efficacy, only as we avail 
ourselves of them ; and labor is in this respect like all the 
others. We are not considering whether we actually draw 
from it the utility it offers ; but whether we might draw 
utility from labor. The husbandman can hardly render an 
account of these influences ; but he will receive an insensi- 
ble and general influence, unless he condemns himself by a 
sort of voluntary degradation to an existence wholly mate- 
rial. It belongs to him to convert his humble cabin into a 
peaceful sanctuary of virtue. 

Labor not only directly contributes in various ways to our 
moral improvement, but virtuous habits, in their turn, ren- 
der labor more easy and more productive ; a truth which is 
not less important, nor less delightful. The workmen who 
accompany their labor with their song, labor more easily on 
account of their serenity ; and it is the same with the labor 
accompanied by the secret satisfaction of a good conscience ; 
this internal melody gives a still more powerful charm. 
Who counts the fatigue of to-day, if he expects a large re- 
muneration to-night, if he can promise himself a holiday 



PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 339 

to-morrow 1 Virtue joins a constant remuneration to labor, 
and promises a magnificent morrow ! The burden becomes 
lighter, when the mind is serene and the heart content. 
We are more active and strong, when we wish to accom- 
plish a good action. The method and perseverance, which 
labor requires, are not so difficult to those who are patient 
and subject to order ; and, if this is so in simple mechani- 
cal operations, what will it be in those labors that require 
the concurrence of the faculties of the soul 1 Let us, then, 
embrace labor as a duty, since, by this adherence to the 
views of Providence, we render its weight more easy to sup- 
port, and its fruits more abundant. 



CHAPTER VII. 



PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 



Labor is not, however, without some charm. The reg- 
ular exercise of activity gives it an attraction, which makes it 
almost become a want. The indolent give themselves to man- 
ual labor, merely to be delivered from the weight of inactivity. 
The most of our diversions are in imitation of labor, being 
only labor deprived of a serious end. Labor, besides, pro- 
duces the pleasures and joys of repose, which is a privilege 
exclusively reserved to it. And pleasure, on the other hand, 
is elevated by labor, which gives to it the character of a 
recompense. 

Nature is pleased to recommend to us, by the charm of 
enjoyment, what is useful to us. But this charm belongs 
to repose, only during those intervals of labor in which it is 
necessary to repair the strength. It ceases, and gives place 
to ennui, when repose is anticipated, or prolonged without 
measure. 



340 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Nature, like a provident mother, not only invites us, by 
the attraction of pleasure, to seek out what will satisfy our 
wants, but, with an amiable and tender solicitude, she has 
also sown under our feet a multitude of innocent pleasures, 
which we too often disdain to enjoy, although they are gra- 
tuitously yielded. On all sides there are elegant forms, 
graceful shades, sweet harmonies and perfumes ; the earth 
is clothed with fruits and flowers, the heavens are stretched 
out like a magnificent tent; the air which we breathe seems 
to be life itself; a vast banquet is prepared every day, to 
which man is invited. These pleasures are served up with 
a liberality so sincere, as to require no effort ; they are offer- 
ed most especially to that most numerous class of society, 
which is least favored by fortune, and they demand only a 
little attention and a calm disposition. These pleasures 
are the more precious in that they are common, even 
universal : they are the more salutary, as they are limited 
within the bounds of moderation : they are inexhaustible, 
as their variety is infinite ; and as they succeed each other, 
they constantly reappear with the charm of novelty. Is it 
possible not to recognise in these dispensations the manifest 
design of a beneficent Providence ? Do they not imply that 
the Creator of all things not only permits his feeble creature 
to enjoy happiness here below, but in a manner enjoins 
upon him to repose himself in happiness ? In assigning to 
these innocent pleasures a place in the framework of our 
destiny, he has almost promoted them to the rank of duties. 
In accepting the refreshment allowed us, we learn also to 
bless Providence ; the peaceful smile of contentment ex- 
presses gratitude. It would be a false wisdom which would 
reject these intentions of the Supreme Benefactor. By the 
natural course of things, we shall have conflicts enough to 
sustain, sacrifices enough to make, privations enough to en- 
dure ; we should not neglect to restore our strength by mo- 
ments of relaxation. A little seasonable pleasure does 
good to the soul, reanimating and sustaining virtue. Mai\ 



PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 341 

accomplishes on earth only the youth of his destiny ; and re- 
creation is necessary to youth. The more feeble we are, the 
more necessary is encouragement. Who then should proudly 
disdain innocent pleasure ? It gives equanimity and seren- 
ity to the temper, clearness to ideas, ease to action. The 
heart is expanded, and diffuses itself freely. Happiness does 
no harm, when it is lawful ; and can there be a true happiness 
which is not lawful ? When we are happy, the image of 
good appears embellished; devotedness seems natural, and 
without effort ; self-sacrifice seconds good will ; we feel it 
necessary to communicate the happiness we experience. 

The natural effect of pleasure, is, to reestablish among 
the faculties the equilibrium which is destroyed by fatigue. 
Labor, especially, exercises some one branch of our active 
faculties ; pleasure puts in play those which have remained 
inactive in labor. Therefore to go from one occupation to 
another is often a sufficient recreation. 

The natural effect of repose is to give to the faculties of 
the soul a secret and delightful calmness. After a season 
of repose, if it has not been abused, and if it was taken at 
the seasonable moment, we find ourselves more self-possess- 
ed ; we feel more entirely, and comprehend better, the in- 
spirations of nature; we experience greater confidence, are 
more strong against difficulty, and better prepared for hap- 
piness. 

Unless these maxims are well founded, morality contra- 
dicts itself, in counselling us to spread among others the 
enjoyments that we must ourselves reject. It would even 
condemn the satisfaction that we feel, in witnessing the 
pleasures of which we have been the authors. 

There is then an art of tasting repose and pleasure in a 
moral view. This art is not only useful, it is laudable; 
there is almost an obligation upon us to discover and to 
observe it. It embraces the time, measure, and choice of 
enjoyments; the circumstances which accompany, and the 
29* 



343 SELF-EDUCATION. 

spirit which should be carried into them. Its rules are sim- 
ple, but not always easy to observe. 

Let pleasure and repose always fill up the intervals of 
labor. Let them be in proportion to the fatigues experienc- 
ed, a reward of preceding efforts, and a necessary prepara- 
tion to those which are to follow ! The satisfaction which 
accompanies effort, the new hopes which it excites, will en- 
hance their price, and increase their sweetness. Just and 
useful moral intentions will consecrate, as it were, the en- 
joyments which would have been almost entirely material, 
to which will be joined also even a religious sentiment, 
purifying and ennobling them. Pleasure and repose ought 
to be subjected, doubtless, to just limits, for the mere inter- 
est of enjoyment; but selfishness has not the prudence to 
recognise and observe these limits : we ought to thank 
virtue for having instituted and guarantied an economy so 
useful to our happiness. Besides, limits are necessary to 
preserve Self-government and liberty : they attest the pres- 
ence of the moral being even in the midst of pleasure, by 
the power exercised over pleasure, whether in accepting, 
rejecting, or moderating it. In the choice of pleasures, we 
should avoid whatever tends to degrade us ; in tasting re^ 
pose, whatever would stupefy us. The refreshments of repose 
should be as animated as possible ; those of pleasure, on the 
contrary, should preserve a certain degree of calmness. In 
both we should avoid grossness, and whatever engenders 
agitation, or resembles self-abandonment. Repose does not 
exclude vigilance ; pleasure invokes it to preserve itself from 
the intoxication by which it would be corrupted. The 
means of rendering pleasure more true and its influence 
more useful, is to unite those secret relations which address 
themselves to our noblest faculties, to the sensible impres- 
sions which compose its train, thus interesting both the 
heart and mind. The senses ought never so to invade the 
existence of man, as to occupy him exclusively : this would 
be on his part, an abdication of his nature. Pleasure should 



PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 343 

also be an ornament of life. The image of order should be 
reproduced in enjoyment; for the sense of beauty and pro- 
priety, rendering enjoyment more delicate, preserves its 
purity. 

The prejudices of the world accord an excessive indulgence 
to libertinism, and seem even to encourage it, unless it is 
carried to the last excess : when joined to brilliant quali- 
ties, it is often excused, sometimes even applauded, and es- 
pecially if successful. These prejudices are as fatal as they 
are blind, and it should be the first care of a sound morality 
to destroy them. Libertinism, in its external effects, pro- 
fanes the most sacred institution of nature and society, 
violating, usurping, and destroying the family affections. 
It draws after it a multitude of failures in the duties of fidel- 
ity, delicacy, and good faith : conducting, often insensibly, 
sometimes suddenly, to the highest crimes.* At the same 
time, by a secret reaction, it carries a taint to the faculties 
of the soul, impairing dignity of character, enfeebling the 
power of meditation by rendering self-recollection more 
difficult, introducing into ideas and sentiments a sort of 
licentiousness and misrule, which hurts the energy of reason 
as much as that of will, and despoils the images of excel- 
lence of a portion of their charms; while by the effect of the 
habits it draws after it, the soul is enveloped in clouds, and 
the radiant and pure light of virtuous sentiments is enfeebled. 
When the world treats with a marked severity the faults 
committed by the feebler sex, it finds a motive for this se- 
verity, in the influence these faults may have upon the ex- 
istence and rights of families ; yet, in the eyes of morality 
the distinction which it establishes is unjust, — not only 
because those who are more feeble are more excusable, — 
not only because we should be less severe toward those who 
are ill defended and have yielded, than towards those who 

* If we examine the causes which bring criminals before the tribunals of 
justice, we shall be surprised to find how large is the number, whom lib- 
ertinism has led to crime, in a more or less direct manner. 



344 SELF-EDUCATION. 

have seduced ; but, especially, because those to whom the 
world is most indulgent, ought to give an example of self- 
government ; because those, whom it treats with most se- 
verity, were often seduced by an unregulated sensibility, 
the seducer having played upon this sensibility, devoting, 
or at least exposing his victim to the greatest of all misfor- 
tunes, to the mistakes of abused affection, and its conse- 
quent shame and discouragement. But what is this pleas- 
ure, purchased at the expense of another's happiness, of the 
happiness of a sex, that Providence has confided to our 
protection? What is this pretended success, obtained by 
real cruelty? What is this mixture of pleasure and barbar- 
ity ? What is this base selfishness which hides itself in 
empty sentimentality 1 What is this inconceivable, odious 
vanity, which counts as its triumphs the blackest treasons 
in the communion of hearts? 

Pleasure can only be legitimate and pure, can only be 
salutary, to him who is innocent of all pain caused to anoth- 
er. Not only so : pleasure, to be complete, must be fed by 
social intercourse ; solitary pleasure is always imperfect, 
narrow, and dry. The most material pleasures take a new 
character, when tasted in common, and become a sort of 
symbol or channel, for the delightful affections of social 
intercourse. Pleasure disposes the heart to openness, the 
communication of enjoyment gives a deeper sympathy, and, 
reciprocally, sympathy gives to pleasure something tender 
and delicate. Selfishness is less displayed, when we thus 
enjoy the pleasure of others at the same time as our own. 
The tie which unites for a moment those, who sit down to 
the banquet of innocent pleasure, is one of the ties of hu- 
manity : it makes us feel and recall other ties, at least, con- 
fusedly, and thus elevates what might have been entirely 
material in pleasure ; indirectly favoring communication 
and overflowing of hearts, and the tacit engagement to re- 
ciprocal benevolence. These are pleasures really complete, 
shedding exquisite perfumes. Let us reanimate them by 
beneficence. 



PLEASURE AND REPOSE. 345 

Philosophers have left it to men of the world to eulogize 
gayety : in this they have done wrong. They might have 
shown how an innocent gayety strengthens and renovates 
the heart, in the midst of the fatigues of life ; how gayety 
prevents or dissipates the storms of passion ; appeases anger, 
disarms enemies, dissipates the delusions of pride, brings us 
back to nature and truth, makes men approach each other, 
and disposes them to confidence, indulgence, and mutual 
concession, favors the transmission of the most serious and 
useful truths, and covers them with a veil, which softens 
their severity. We may often insinuate, under the shelter 
of gayety, what we could not have made men adopt by the 
most rigorous demonstration. An innocent gayety seems to 
be the smile of virtue ; it recommends her, by showing her 
amiable, and announcing her happy. 

The unemployed, who are discontented with themselves, 
not being able to find in pleasure its true end, refreshment 
and preparation, demand of it emotions which may excite or 
divert them. Thus they are driven to seek it out of nature, 
and consequently, out of the conditions of truth, and the 
prescriptions of wisdom. They therefore find it a poison, 
instead of drawing from it strength. 

There is a repose which is fruitful and full of activity : 
how few are the men, who find it out; but what power those 
find in it, who know how to taste it ! 

Human nature exhibits a union of two different natures : 
and to this fundamental contrast correspond a multitude of 
subordinate contrasts, originating from it; these are the 
active and passive faculties; infinite desire and limited 
strength; adherence to the past and avidity for the new ; 
the instinct of imitation, and the deep desire of indepen- 
dence ; inclinations and reason ; influences respectively pe- 
culiar to contemplation and to practice, to society and to sol- 
itary life ; lastly, labor and repose, pleasure and pain. But, 
in this long train of contrasts, the struggle is only apparent: 
harmony, like utility, arises from combinations, which 



346 ' SELF-EDUCATION. 

reconcile opposite principles. This grand result, which is 
foreseen from the first, is constantly confirmed by the de- 
velopement of our faculties, explains our destiny, and affords 
a multitude of useful directions for our conduct. Man, a 
mixed being, aspiring to a better existence, yet subject to 
an imperfect condition, finds in it a remedy against pride, 
an encouragement for weakness, and a rule of temperance 
in every thing. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

TRIALS. 

How stern and terrible is this last part of the education 
of man ! the perils and afl^ictions, which under so many 
different forms beset human nature, and which may come 
to every one of us, in the rapid course of our existence ! 
How has it troubled the reason of the wise ! How many 
minds, in the attempt to fathom the mystery, and to explain 
the source of human woes, have sunk ! Some have lost all 
trust in the Supreme disposer of events ; others have imag- 
ined a malevolent Spirit, equal in power to the good Spirit, 
independent of him, and seizing the creature as a prey to its 
fury. So difficult is it to consent to receive the calamities of 
life as salutary trials, and to draw from them the instructions 
they contain ! 

Of one thing, however, we may be sure. It it this : we 
shall not be able to meet this portion of our life with vain 
speculations, or a merely poetical morality. We must 
struggle against realities which will admit of no illusion. 
Truth, alone, the firmest truth, can endure so rude a contest. 
But this contest is inevitable, we may not escape. It is also 
necessary, for suffering yields the most important knowledge, 



TRIALS. 437 

and the most powerful assistance. Shall its blessing be 
rejected; shall we turn it to our destruction? The trial 
which is useless to us, and is fatal to our character, becomes 
on that account, qjily the more difficult to bear ; and is not 
this a proof that it was sent to improve our moral nature? 

Under the general name of trials, we include dangers, 
privations, reverses, physical sufferings, and mental dis- 
tresses. Viewed by the light of wisdom, the object of all 
these things is to try the human being ; to teach him to 
know himself; to soften his character, to give pledges of 
immortality, and make him worthy of his high destiny. And 
it is because these instructions are so important, and their 
fruits are to be manifested in the distant future, it is because 
they teach man how to die, and form the creature for im- 
mortality, that the discipline given is so severe. For the 
same reason, also, this discipline continues, and becomes 
more active, when other moral influences are suspended; 
and especially towards the close of existence. Sorrow holds 
the keys of our mortal life. She ushered us into it; she 
opens also the passage to another life. 

The seal of suffering, impressed upon our destiny, an- 
nounces, in clear characters, our high calling. The most 
gifted are those to whom the deepest sufferings, those of the 
soul, are reserved, as a privilege. And sorrow ought to be 
the inheritance only of a being capable of progress. The 
animal experiences nothing worthy the name of sorrow; for 
his pains being merely physical, they are both unforeseen 
and transitory. 

History shows us that great public calamities often pro- 
duce great changes of character. Some, who are affected 
by them, rise rapidly to the highest virtues ; others allow 
themselves to be carried to every excess of depravity. 
Among the former, we may often see those who have been 
abandoned, not only to frivolity, but to vice and degradation, 
Among the latter, we often find those, who before were 
estimable and regular in their lives. The same trial came 



348 SELF-EDUCATION. 

to all : it produced such different effects, because it was not 
viewed under the same aspect, or received with the same 
disposition. It reformed, strengthened, elevated, those who 
comprehended it : it left powerless those who did not know 
how to accept it. All disorders and errors may be explain- 
ed by weakness. Those lost command over themselves 
whose virtues were only mechanical ; who performed easy 
duties, under favorable circumstances ; who never penetrat- 
ed their souls to destroy selfishness. At the appearance of 
danger, selfishness prevailed, and took entire possession of 
them ; trial only appeared as an oppressive spoiler, an ene- 
my ; and refuge was sought from a future which could 
not be endured, in disgraceful dissipation. But those gain- 
ed command over themselves, who had, amidst all their 
deficiencies, preserved a moral principle which was roused 
by the presence of trial ; they discovered the vanity of the 
transitory pleasures, which had engrossed them ; they per- 
ceived that another destiny awaited them ; they rejoiced in 
the instructer who teaches by correcting, in the physician 
who cures by a bitter draught. What history reveals, in 
these solemn events, takes place habitually among men : the 
same effects are produced by common trials, as they are 
yielded to, or as men raise themselves above them. 

How just and salutary is that decree of opinion, which 
has made fear ignominious ! Fear conducts to all crimes, 
by every kind of meanness. Nothing is so cruel as coward- 
ice. Terror gives an absolute supremacy to selfishness; for 
it puts out of our view all that would check it ; bursts all the 
ties of affection ; produces a sort of dissolution of the moral 
existence ; chills the soul, as physical fear chills the limbs ; 
destroying, or, at least, paralysing both the Love of Excel- 
lence and Self-government : for he, who trembles, can 
neither love nor exert his will. No idea then is more false 
than that of employing fear as a moral influence. How can 
the image of virtue be depicted in the bosom of fear ? what 
generous sentiment can spring from cowardice 1 Fear not 



TRIALS. 



349 



only gives no notion of duty ; it conveys an erroneous im- 
pression concerning it ; it will never inspire a useful thought, 
a praiseworthy resolution. It is a great mistake to endeav- 
our to reform man by debasing him. A certain kind and 
degree of fear may be employed to advantage in repressing 
impetuosity and violence, serving to restore equilibrium, 
and self-command : but at this limit it ought to stop. To 
have any salutary effect, fear should be joined with respect, 
thus preserving something of morality. This may be attain- 
ed by associating it with the rules of justice ; making it 
serve as an expression or an attendant of them : but then 
it ought to accompany justice, not conceal it. 

Danger is of use, by warning the soul to collect its strength 
and summon its forces ; thus making it free from all shackles. 
The serenity diffused over the countenance of the hero, the 
spirit which lights up his features, when, on the field of 
glory, a thousand arrows fly around him, may show us what 
is passing in the soul of the wise man, who is threatened 
with misfortune. As genius is exalted in the presence of 
obstacles, so is virtue, in the presence of danger ; f^r it then 
learns to trust itself, and acquires the consciousness of its 
power and its dignity. 

It is common and easy for courage to meet a definite 
danger ; but it is more difficult to brave what is vague and 
undefined : it is still more rare to carry into courage a moral 
motive. Yet this condition is necessary to render the hab- 
it of danger profitable to the character. 

We are not astonished at the bravery of thousands, who 
expose their lives in the field of battle, often without knowing 
why ; but it is astonishing to see a man expose his fortune, 
liberty, and life, in the cause of justice and truth. Yet the 
last kind of courage is much more reasonable and just; it 
should be more natural. Have we not then false ideas of 
courage 1 

The powerful charm of excitement is what supports in peril 
even those who seek it with ardor ; they know they may die, 
30 



350 SELF-EDUCATION. 

but in the mean time existence is more valuable. But this 
principle is more injurious than useful to the character. Tri- 
als will come, and such as require the most fortitude, when 
there is no excitement to assist us : for example, those 
which require us to brave the unjust decrees of opinion. 
Moreover, in cultivating the taste for excitement, we lend to 
the passions a new energy, and common life becomes insip- 
id ; obscure virtues lose their value ; duty appears a monot- 
onous and vulgar thing. The brilliant qualities, which have 
been displayed on a boisterous scene, on our returning to 
common life, are often eclipsed, and vanish entirely in a 
series of regular and tranquil events. This is because these 
qualities were the offspring of passion, rather than of virtue. 
Familiarity with danger disposes the soul to disinterest- 
edness, and thus prepares for all kinds of sacrifices. It frees 
it from a crowd of illusions and puerile caprices, produces 
self-possession, gives seriousness as well as manliness to 
the character, and thus prepares us for the exercises of 
wisdom. There is, indeed, a thoughtlessness which accus- 
toms itself to danger for the sake of amusement ; misusing 
trial, by strengthening itself in an incurable frivolity. 
There is also a coarse and almost brutal indifference, which 
becomes familiar with danger, and braves every thing, be- 
cause it is interested in nothing ; and which comes forth 
from trial, as unalterable substances from the crucible, 
without the slightest transformation. The heart is improv- 
ed by danger, only when it knows it as such, and measures 
the extent of the sacrifice. A contempt of life is always 
honorable in the superficial judgment of the world ; because 
whatever are the causes of this contempt, there is something 
striking in it. Yet life is not to be despised ; and it is 
neither rational nor allowable to sport with it. To expose 
it uselessly, is not courage, but a culpable rashness, and the 
more culpable, when a vain ostentation is the real motive of 
this sort of bravado. Contempt of life, we repeat, is not 
honorable ; but to esteem duty and honor more than life, 



TRIALS. 351 

is only esteeming life at its just value. The presence of 
danger also causes us to appreciate more truly every moment 
of our existence ; for, like a flash of light, it banishes all 
illusion, and annihilates every thing false, calling to mind 
all that is ennobling in our present existence, whose value 
arises from what is to be perfected in that future, for which 
it is a preparation. By showing us the shortness of life, 
danger also makes us feel how urgent is the necessity for 
employing it for the end for which it was given. 

The trial of danger also gives self-knowledge, for it shows 
us the solidity and reality of our virtues. We must, there- 
fore, endure it with entire tranquillity ; for agitation bewil- 
ders our judgment ; fright causes us to forget our resources, 
and our merits ; and discouragement renders us unjust to- 
wards ourselves. 

Wisdom has been defined by some philosophers, especial- 
ly among the new Platonists, " meditation upon death." 
Let us avoid exaggeration, nor step aside from the path 
which Providence has marked out for man. Doubtless, life 
ought to be a great preparation ; but, for this reason, it 
should be life, and not an anticipated and continual death. 
Some useful and proper feelings are weakened by the ha- 
bitual anticipation of our last hour ; some of our occupations 
would be interrupted, which still are duties. This continu- 
al contemplation of death may become an enthusiastic and 
mystical selfishness, producing a forgetfulness of the claims 
of society, and destroying the charm of those sweet affec- 
tions, by which we are united to our fellow-men. Let us not 
dispute with others this rare degree of perfection, of which 
they are so jealous : let our kind of progress be that which 
belongs to more common men, that which demands, in the 
first place, faithfulness to the dictates of prudence and na- 
ture. Let our motto be, '^The wise man, looking forward to 
death, makes the best use of life." 

Reason, analysing the ills of life, discovers that the larg- 
est portion of them, and those by which we are the most 



352 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



affected, are of a purely negative character, consisting 
entirely of privations ; also, that the privations which affect 
us, often have no other reality than that which we are pleas- 
ed to give them ; or, than that which artificial habits, and 
conventional comparisons, have given to them. In this exact 
appreciation of the value of human things, consist the first 
principles of the science of happiness ; yet who thinks of 
engaging in such a study, without the spur of adversity? 
Let us, then, be consoled for many sorrows, by the knowl- 
edge they bring ; and the wounds which they make, will be 
healed. What a blessing may we draw from the mistakes 
of vanity, if, in the end, we learn to reduce to a just value, 
the good which vanity pursues ; and to repress that blind 
and insatiable self-love of which vanity is the excess! 

There are some remarkable and striking instances of 
adversity, in which the sternness of fortune is balanced by 
the applause of the world. But there is less fruit' from such 
adversity, as well as less merit ; for pride is apt to corrupt 
us. We have not the same resources in the obscure vexa^* 
tions and trifling privations of life, but we reap much greater 
advantages. 

Thus the world cannot sufficiently admire the resolution 
of the powerful and prosperous, who are overtaken by dis- 
grace ; though they only need a little reason, perhaps, to 
become really more happy. But its indifference leaves unper- 
ceived, or its thoughtlessness despises, the numerous exam- 
ples of the heroism of poverty, which lie hidden all around 
and near us, and which, if known to the world, would chal- 
lenge the veneration of all men. Notwithstanding the 
magnificence of the pictures, in which the good man in 
adversity has been set forth by the eloquence of philosophy, 
the subject is not exhausted ; much, that is new, might be 
added, by the daily visitors of the abodes of poverty. To 
put out of the question its numerous privations, its solitude, 
its destitution of earthly comfort, the suspicion and conde- 
scension which often are so wounding in the midst of 



TRIALS. 353 

IjiompaSsion, the family affections which often become the 
source of the greatest sufferings, the most distressing anxie- 
ties, and the constant presence of all these things without 
the presence of hope ; — what a trial for the heart, — what a 
revelation of the unknown is it ! It has been reserved for 
Christianity to manifest to the world all that is sublime in 
the heroism of poverty, and to elevate this condition to the 
rank of a moral privilege, by the dignity it confers, and the 
virtues it teaches. 

The Love of Excellence is cultivated in many ways by 
the trial of suffering and privation, which favor concentra- 
tion of soul, because the soul is delivered by it from illusion 
and distraction, and forced to create within itself a new 
existence. Self, and the interests that throng around it, 
are laid aside, and a new turn is given to the affections, by 
the manifestation of a support, a comfort, an inexhaustible 
source of consolation, in the perception of the realities of 
human destiny. The duties which are our laws, being 
shown as our true objects, we perceive that there is something 
positive and serious in that science of wisdom, which we 
are too apt to rank with mere theories. In presence of these 
noble images, the oppressed soul is renev/ed ; virtue is seen 
under its purest forms ; we are admitted into a m^ore inti- 
mate communion ; and there dawn upon us not only con- 
solations, but celestial joys, which would have been un- 
known in prosperity. Oh ! how beautiful does virtue ap- 
pear, when, though we find ourselves destitute of all other 
good, we possess her entirely, contemplate her unveiled, 
and offer to her a heart purified by adversity ! Would 
we penetrate these wonderful secrets, however, and obtain 
these salutary influences, we must enter the paths of trial 
with right dispositions : we must enter them with compo- 
sure ; not only with the external tranquillity of the senses, 
but with that inward peace, which belongs to a happy 
conscience ; we must have a sincere desire for these instruc- 
tions ; we must preserve and cherish the power of loving, 
30* 



354 SELF-EDUCATION. 

which alone can enable us to enjoy the sweetness of being 
loved and consoled. The great book of adversity will in 
vain be opened before us, if, in order to read it, we do not 
first tear from our eyes the bondage of self-love. 

The trial of privations and sufferings also contributes in 
many ways to the developement of Self-government. It 
breaks the chain of habit, and the soul recovers freedom of 
will. Placed in this new situation, we may study ourselves to 
more advantage, and shall be led to reflect upon our faults and 
the consequences they have had, and to discover how much 
reality there is in the virtues we thought we had acquir- 
ed. We can practise self-restraint and temperance, acquire 
boldness and firmness of will ; in a word, by moral inten- 
tions, we shall be able to change into a voluntary sacrifice 
what is imposed upon us by circumstances, and thus to form 
the true triumph of resignation. 

We often and very justly envy those privileged beings, 
who have been permitted to devote their lives to a holy 
cause, to sacrifice themselves to duty, to suffer persecution 
for the sake of justice. But resignation offers to each of us 
a sphere of merit it many respects similar. Privations and 
sufferings that are sent upon us, and which we do not 
choose, may be accepted by us in meekness, and in accept- 
ing them thus, we offer a true sacrifice to duty ; for it is our 
duty to submit to the will of Providence, in the events with 
which our destiny is marked. The less remarkable our 
duty is, the less it flatters our self-love, and the more great- 
ness and purity there is in its performance. Enter that 
asylum, where lies, far from the eyes of the world, a person 
long exhausted by acute pain, having no other prospect than 
the same pain, continued to the grave, while each day takes 
from him some charm of existence. His days are without 
relaxation, his nights without repose ; an incessant torture 
overpowers him, and the prospects of life consist of a slowly 
approaching death. Every day brings to him a farewell ; 
his intercourse with those whom he loves, continually 



TRIALS. 355 

becomes more difficult and rare ; but during the course of a 
martrydom constantly increasing, his serenity is constantly 
becoming greater, his patience more equable ; he is disen- 
gaging himself from every thing, without selfish regret ; 
far from being occupied with himself, he is constantly in- 
quiring with more tender solicitude into the affairs of those 
who are dear to him : he has an increasing ardor to foresee 
their future destiny : he knows how to love better than ever. 
Oh how much that is valuable has he learned in this terrible 
school ! How much, in his turn, does he teach by his ex- 
ample ! Such resignation, suffering supported with so much 
constancy, why is it less noble than the immolation of Soc- 
rates 1 

Unfortunate beings, who have been called to drink the 
bitter cup of affliction ! Oh that you could comprehend 
how much substantial and restoring nourishment it contains ; 
how many precious remedies for the sufferings of the soul ! 
Accept it with courage, and even with gratitude. And you, 
who are sent on the affecting errand of aiding the unhappy, 
remember that you have hardly commenced the fulfilment 
of your duty, when you have given support and comfort to 
the wants of the body. There are other consolations for you 
to give. The power of tender affection must penetrate the 
heart of the afflicted ! and to do this, confidence is to be 
obtained, which is a more difficult thing than at first appears. 
Friendship is the only cure that can be offered to sorrow. 
The last benefit, the most noble and useful part of your min- 
istry, the benefit of which this established bond of friendship 
will be the instrument, is to raise the sinking heart, and 
teach it not to despair of itself, — to aid the sufferer to dis- 
cover, in the trial he endures, all the instruction it offers, to 
show him all the means of improvement contained in his 
misfortune. 

But the most terrible, the most profound of all the myste- 
ries of grief, is that which is reserved to the purest souls, 
when the holiest affections are converted into heart-rending 



356 SELF-EDUCATION. 

sufferings ; when it is necessary to receive the sad farewell 
of the beings to whom our life has been devoted, and to re- 
nounce the happiness of living for them ; when we can no 
longer hear the accents of that voice which excited us to 
virtue, nor longer clasp the hand that guided us in the path 
of duty ; when our guide, our support, our most intimate 
friend is taken away ; when that form, in which virtue 
seemed to breathe, has disappeared ! 

O you, who have explored the secret of all sufferings, is 
there any explanation of this last trial ; is there any means 
of rendering it useful to our amelioration, — deprived as 
we are by it of the most powerful assistance ? Doubtless, 
there are here also lessons, severe but sublime, and fruitful 
for those who are worthy to receive them. They are the 
last part of our education, and are intended to achieve our 
perfection. All the mysteries of grief are resolved in relig- 
ious thoughts, and they only can fully explain them. Let 
us raise our eyes to the prospects of religion ! Then, and 
only then, all the uses hidden in the trials of life, will be 
revealed. Then the sentence which condemns the heart to 
widowhood, will become intelligible to the sensitive and 
tender. Then will be comprehended the true character 
and supreme end of the affections, which are so delightful. 
Then it will be discovered, that they can become more 
purified, that there are new ways of serving and honoring 
those we have loved. Then grief will become fruitful in 
good actions, and find in those ties of affection — not un- 
broken, although they have become invisible — a means of 
cherishing the noblest hopes. The temple where the wor- 
ship of remembrance is celebrated, is enlightened with the 
rays of immortality ! In the solitary exercise of excellence, 
the bereaved finds in himself the power of heroic efforts, but 
this it remained for him to gain. A new career of progress 
opens upon him, as yet unknown, and one which human wis- 
dom could not have taught. The farewells of the virtuous 
are promises: we correspond in absence; we find each 



DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 357 

Other again in the home of love, the summit of perfection, 
the true end of our destiny. There is a palm for this mar- 
tyrdom of the heart ; it grows on the confines of earth and 
Jieaven. We must go there to gather it. 



CHAPTER IX. 

PROGRESS IN DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 

Man, with his faculties and inclinations, is born subject 
to laws, intended to regulate both ; this is all he brings with 
him into the world. We often demand of infancy what it 
cannot possess, as if it had a real and primitive stock, of 
which it ought to be already in enjoyment. At the same 
time, by a contrary error, we overwhelm infancy with what 
is factitious, when we should especially assist it to enter 
into possession of what is destined for it. We are astonish- 
ed not to find innate virtues. Children are without pity, as 
€ven the good La Fontaine says, but we may remark, that 
pity supposes reflection, of which infancy is hardly capable. 
Children are selfish, it is said ; but we may remark that 
children have little opportunity to give, and it is in giving, 
that we learn to love. Early infancy is under the dominion 
of the passive faculties : the sensual nature is necessarily 
the first part of our nature, which is developed ; the smile of 
an infant upon its mother, however, shows to an attentive 
eye something that cannot be perceived in any animal, the 
dawn of moral light, the blossoming of love. Children soon 
find out the delight of being loved, and acquire promptly a 
very clear idea and have a singularly vivid sentiment of jus- 
tice. 

We find in children, what we ought to find, germs, em- 
bryos, which are to be developed by favorable influences ; 



358 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



but growth is often checked by adverse circumstances, and 
false instruction. It is true, that self-love often shows itself 
naked in infancy, but is it really more powerful than in later 
periods of life, or does infancy only show it more ingenuous- 
ly and candidly? Besides, it has not yet been enlightened! 
by reflection and experience, which may reconcile it withi 
devoted disinterestedness. 

Of the two great moral powers, the Love of Excellence 
is the first to show itself, and it ought to be so; for it is 
necessary, in the first place, to conceive the end, and to- 
aspire after it with earnestness, before means can be gath- 
ered to conduct to it. It seems to be the dowry of youth^ , 
which has peculiar charms for it. It seems to ally itself to > 
youth with a sort of predilection. What spectacle upon 
earth is more interesting, and, at the same time, more natu- 
ral, than that of a young heart, opening at once to the 
emanations of virtue and the affections of life, devoting 
itself as a consecrated priest to the worship of excellence^ 
with all the rectitude of its age, and with faculties as yet 
unspoiled ? The meditations of youth are full of seeds ; itst 
actions are promises; its days are rit^h with the- futurew 
It fears no withering ; it is disconcerted by no doubts ; it 
has not yet been deceived, and suspects not what the terri- 
ble experience of the world will teach it; it hardly suspects 
all the mistakes it will discover in itself. In fulfilling duty, 
the young seem to follow inclination, tasting an enjoyment, 
rather than making a sacrifice. How precious is this en- 
thusiasm, which makes virtue so easy; this serene inno- 
cence, which conceives no danger ; this earnestness of soul, 
which, in aspiring to the best, hopes to realize the ideal 
upon earth ! How sad is that dissipation of mind, in which 
these treasures are wasted ; that excitement of the passions 
which quenches these hopes ; that unfortunate experience 
of life, which destroys this faith, and clouds this ideal ! The 
most of the wanderings of youth have their source in affec- 
tions, laudable in themselves, but unregulated by reason and 



DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 359 

a wise Self-government; it is to make up for this want of 
Self-government, that virtue is made so attractive to youth. 

The Love of Excellence can, in the beginning, obtain a 
high degree of energy. It displays itself even the more 
freely in a soul yet new ; but Self-government, on the con- 
trary, is acquired only by long and painful exertion. The 
practice of obedience, and a deference to counsel, are offer- 
ed to youth to supply its place. The young ought to feel 
the authority of others, because they are hardly capable of 
exercising authority over themselves. The sentiment of 
respect is a conservative principle for purity of feeling and 
moderation of desire. To excite the Love of Excellence, it 
is only necesary to contemplate models, and to descend into 
the heart. But to guard against the wanderings of extrava- 
gance, even in excellence, there is need of vigilance and 
self-distrust, an acknowledgement and understanding of 
guidance ; there is need of rules, of limits, which may 
strengthen by restraining us; of knowledge, which may hold 
the place of experience. 

The second moral power. Self-government, seems to be, in 
its turn, a privilege reserved to mature age, in which every 
thing is more calm, and which encounters, on all sides, diffi- 
culties and obstacles, v/hich is called to perseverance and pa- 
tience. Emotions are less necessary to it, for it has nothing to 
undertake ; it has only to go on : there is less assistance, 
because there are fewer dangers. However, mature age has 
aJso perils, less sensible, less signal than those of youth, but 
in some respects more fearful. There are no violent storms 
of passion, but there is an influence, chilling the moral life 
tmless guarded against ; this comes from blind habits, 
|which multiply and become heavier every day; from the 
preoccupations of business ; from the suggestions of the 
false wisdom, which, through a superficial and imperfect 
experience of human life, believes itself to see a confirma- 
tion of selfish doctrines, and a condemnation of generous 
thoughts. Lastly, and in virtuous men, it is the abuse of 



SELF-EDUCATION. 

Self-government, and an exaggerated self-denial, which 
indirectly dry up some of the sources of the Love of Excel- 
lence. These revolutions are brought about insensibly, and 
we are surprised, when we find ourselves entirely changed 
from what we were in youth. We should constantly resist 
this insensible influence, and rekindle the principle of moral 
life. By the progress of reason, we should defend ourselves 
from the slavery of routine; by the exercise of devotedness, 
we should preserve the heart from sleep and apathy. Moral 
activity may be preserved in the midst of external activity. 
By rendering ourselves useful to others, we cherish in our- 
selves the generous affections, for practice cherishes senti- 
ment. It is necessary, especially, to preserve religiously that 
faith in excellence, the true treasure of man, which so many 
circumstances tend to enfeeble, unless we appeal from these 
deceitful appearances to the testimony of remembrance and 
of conscience. 

Whether we descend into ourselves, or look upon life, 
we are at first tempted to suppose, that the most beautiful 
years of youth are also the best, and that man decays mor- 
ally with the progress of age. But this is an impression, 
rather than a judgment, and we are deceived by confound- 
ing the enjoyment with the practice of excellence. This 
enjoyment may fail, for it was given to make up for the 
strength that was yet wanting. The exaltation of enthusi- 
asm, wisely directed, may contribute to progress, but does 
not constitute perfection. In proportion as we advance in 
age, our affections are enlightened by knowledge, our fac- 
ulties tend to a more just equilibrium ; and this is progress. 
Man does not decay morally, unless he loses his power of 
doing good ; and, if his power does not grow, as his expe- 
rience extends, and his reason is enlightened, and as he 
obtains more calmness, and as the motives to virtue are 
confirmed and multiplied, it is not the fault of his age, but 
only of his negligence. The virtues of youth act more viv- ; 
idly upon our imagination ; but the serious, regular, and 



DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 361 

peaceable virtues of mature age, reassure the attentive 
observer against the fear of a general and continual decay. 
The moral powers of man not only do not necessarily decay 
with those of his body, but may grow as the latter decay. The 
youth of the heart may be preserved till death, as many ad- 
mirable examples attest. There is no moral old age, except 
for the selfish ; the selfish alone see what they have acquired 
consumed ; what they have hoped, vanish with years. The 
Love of Excellence, which innocence of life and rectitude of 
soul have protected, finds again its warmth under the snows 
of age ; it collects itself, rich in all its acquirements, to 
spread abroad all its influences, to celebrate, as a solemn 
triumph, that time which prepares for new and august des- 
tinies. 

It is the destiny of old age to enjoy or to suflfer the con- 
sequences of the years which have preceded. Nothing is 
more sad, than the decrepitude of soul, which terminates a 
selfish life; but what alimen. for remembrance does he find, 
who has consecrated his life to the search after improve- 
ment! Virtue, in approaching the hour of recompense, is 
reanimated, as if penetrated with a secret joy. Old age is 
the portico, which introduces us to the temple, and it 
already has the majesty of the great future. We should 
guard, however, against believing that there is any thing fixed, 
inevitable, necessary, in the moral condition of man in this 
world ; there is still time in the last years, even in the last 
days of life, to return to that virtue, which, like an indulgent 
friend, is ready to receive us. Whatever progress we have 
made, there is yet opportunity for new progress, even in the 
age of repose; there is still a period of education, — and of 
what an education ! For, to what a destination it conducts 
us ! Some resources are wanting to it doubtless ; but, if it 
encounter some obstacles peculiar to it, if it must defend 
itself from lassitude, dejection, timidity, inertia, the slavery 
of habit, perhaps also from a secret tendency to suspicion, 
— on the other side, it has fewer enemies to combat, and 
31 



363 SELF-EDUCATION. 

has numberless and powerful succours. It can gather the 
fruits of the experience of life, which is intended as a school 
of virtue; it breathes an atmosphere of calmness and seren- 
ity. The self-cultivation of the aged should consist in two 
principal points ; to seek and seize all the means of pre- 
serving moral activity, and of approaching other men by 
kindness. Thus, energy of will will be sustained, while the 
affections will be constantly reanimated. These two coun- 
sels, moreover, are essentially connected ; the sphere of 
activity, which remains open to the aged, has especially for 
its object to spread benefits among others. O that they 
should complain of being useless ! What power is more 
beneficent than theirs? Goodness of heart becomes in them 
more amiable, more touching. The veneration they inspire, 
is mingled with tenderness ; their words are august and ten- 
der as adieus. What wonders this goodness of the aged can 
produce ! These are the flowers of autumn, which spring up 
abundantly in their steps. They are only occupied for those 
they cherish ; they possess only to give ; the generosity 
which animates them, hastens to spread abroad its gifts, 
lest it should not have time. This generosity is the more 
entire and absolute, as it can look for no return ; for what 
real interests remain for old age, except those which good- 
ness prepares for it? Lastly, what inestimable value in the 
peculiar gifts of age, the most true and useful of benefits, 
examples and counsel ! Old age is a magistracy, instituted 
in the order of nature by Providence itself, ennobling, 
consecrating, purifying him, who exercises it worthily : for 
we are always improved in laboring for the improvement of 
others. But, to fulfil this mission, old age should be acces- 
sible ; it should learn the language of those it instructs, in 
order to make itself understood ; and by a happy return, it 
will itself be reanimated and softened. Is there not a 
secret instinct, which attracts age towards infancy, which 
can gather under its protection lessons that books do not 
give, and be formed in its presence to habits of respect, 



DIFFERENT PERIODS OF LIFE. 363 

while itself finds in infancy the images of those true bless- 
ings, which time does not alter, and which the experience 
of life makes us appreciate better ; the blessings, of which 
candor is the image, and innocence the pledge ? This ap- 
proach of age and infancy is a sort of benediction, given to 
those who enter upon terrestrial existence by those who 
are near quitting it. 

Between moral youth and moral maturity, the difference is 
much less sensible in woman, than in man. Women attain 
much sooner their moral maturity, and preserve much better 
the endowments of their youth. The Love of Excellence 
seems to prevail in women, as Self-government in men. Wo- 
men have all the advantage which belongs to the preeminence 
of this beautiful power, as also they are exposed to the dan- 
gers which spring from the loss of the moral equilibrium. In 
consequence of this preeminence, they have the privilege of 
being constantly called to the exercise of devotedness ; they 
are also eminently gifted with the power of loving, and of for- 
getting themselves. They have the happiness of carrying 
private affection into the accomplishment of every duty ; 
for all their duties are special and personal. They have the 
happiness also of fulfilling more obscure and constant vir- 
tues. The career of progress seems to be circumscribed to 
them in narrower limits ; but they advance much farther, 
and more generally, in the career, than men. Their nature 
seems to be elevated and enlarged, in proportion as more 
difficult circumstances demand their generosity and disin- 
terestedness, and as occasion is offered to love, and to prove 
how they love. Are sacrifices demanded of them? they 
triumph. This example brings us insensibly to a funda- 
mental truth, very necessary to conceive : it is this, that 
progress is relative for each individual. Nothing differs 
more than the career of progress open to the two sexes, 
although a general and absolute end is common to both. It 
seems, that the vocation of the one is to direct into the 
moral life all the powers of the affections; that of the other, 



364 SELF-EDUCATION. 

all the powers of the intellect ; the privilege of the one is 
devotedness, that of the other is strength, so that in fine 
they exchange between themselves sentiment and knowl- 
edge, protecting each other reciprocally by tenderness and 
courage, and uniting in the beneficent and religious life, 
which is true activity and perfect love. Thus, the principal 
education of one of the two sexes, has for its object purity 
of heart, which is the aegis of sentiment; and that of the 
other, cultivation of reason, which is the aegis of strength, 
because it is the principle of Self-government. 



CHAPTER X. 

HOW INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS CONDUCES TO MORAL PROGRESS. 

When we speak of intellectual progress, in its relation to 
moral progress, it is necessary to distinguish two branches 
of the cultivation of the mind, which we are too much ac- 
customed to confound ; viz. that which consists in the ac- 
quisition of knowledge, and that which consists in the de- 
velopement of the faculties. By not having attended to this 
essential distinction, we have often perplexed important 
questions, and fallen into great errors. 

It is true that there is a natural tie between these two 
orders of intellectual progress ; for the faculties of the 
understanding are only developed by exercise, and their 
culti ation is promoted by the acquisition of knowledge; 
while, on the other hand, in proportion as the faculties of 
the understanding are better cultivated, knowledge is more 
easily obtained, preserved, and applied. But these two kinds 
of progress do not go on always in accordance, and do not 
exercise a similar influence upon the character. Increase 
of knowledge does not always make men wiser. Instruction 



INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 365 

must have some relation to the notions we possess already, 
and the applications we propose to make. Incomplete, in- 
coherent knowledge, may become an embarrassment and a 
cause of error, unless this relation is preserved ; for the 
merit and usefulness of kno\5'ledge consists in its oppor- 
tuneness and conformity to a plan. Hence, every acquisition 
of knowledge is not profitable to the character ; that alone 
is profitable, which is connected with general improvement, 
and is in relation with our condition and destination. There 
is sometimes a salutary ignorance, which protects our hap- 
piness, preserving us from indiscreet desire and deceptive 
ambition. There are also some truths, which we might 
abuse, and which might become, in our hands, hurtful 
instruments, because we have not sufficient experience to 
employ them, or, because we are not placed in a situation 
favorable to apply them, or, in fine, because we ourselves 
have not the dispositions, the qualities, and the strength 
necessary to use well an instrument, the management of 
which is much more difficult than we think. For we must 
remember that knowledge is only a means, lending itself in 
active life to every kind of effect; and it may be made 
subservient to evil as well as to good. Not that knowledge 
is in fault; the fault is in the want of address, the impru- 
dence, and especially in the blind vanity, which turns what 
might be a good into a poison. 

There is, however, an influence which the intellectual 
faculties exercise over the moral faculties. This influence 
is directly propitious, and, as long as the intellect is well 
balanced, continues to be so : it begins to be hurtful only 
when the equilibrium of the intellect is lost, and one faculty 
usurps an exclusive sway. In other words, intellectual 
progress is always in itself favorable to moral progress. But 
we must not admit that the first can supply the place of the 
second. On the contrary, the former only imposes a greater 
necessity and a greater duty of laboring for the latter, in 
order to preserve constantly the harmony of the two systems. 
31* 



366 SELF-EDUCATION. 

Neither do we say, that one conducts necessarily to the 
other. We only remark, that intellectual progress furnishes 
valuable aid to moral amelioration, but it rests with us to 
make this aid of avail in self-education; hence, we should 
be careful that the cultivation of the mind should tend to 
this noble end of human destiny. 

It is true, that, in general, the cultivation of the mind, 
when it is well directed, tends of itself to nourish the senti- 
ment of what is noble, pure, and elevated ; bringing us 
back constantly to truth, which is the essence of good, 
and to beauty, which is its resplendence. It makes us feel 
a want, a presentiment of virtue ; it is a foretaste nourish- 
ing the love of virtue, and will render the practice of it more 
easy and delightful, when its sacred flame shall have pene- 
trated the heart, to which it is attached by the most enduring 
ties. The sentiment of the true and of the good, being in 
their nature essentially disinterested, dispose the soul to 
generous movements, and prepare it also for acts of devo- 
tedness. Let us consult our own testimony in the moments 
of self-recollection, when delivered up to the search after 
the treasures of intellect, or having succeeded in finding 
them, we enjoy them fully, or, when following the traces of 
.crenius, and gathering its lessons, a new truth, or sublime 
conception takes captive our mind. How far are we then 
from the regions agitated by passion, or withered by selfish- 
ness ! Is there not, in the profound conviction produced 
by truth, in the emotion excited by the beautiful, a secret 
power, which renders us more capable of feeling what is 
honorable, just, praiseworthy, moral ? If at this moment 
we meet other men, do we not greet them with a deeper and 
more animated good will ? If at this moment an oppor- 
tunity for a good action is presented, do we not accept 
it more naturally and earnestly 1 There is a solemn 
character in truth, which disposes to respect ; and in the 
beautiful, an amiable character which attracts us. The 
acts of approbation and of esteem strengthen the soul, and 



INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 367 

give it repose : admiration elevates, purifies, expands the 
heart. To draw these salutary influences however, from 
the exercises of the mind, our faculties must be directed to 
cherish the love of truth and of the beautiful; too often, we 
must confess, we abuse these gifts, so that the mind cor- 
rupts and withers the heart. 

There are some humorous minds, which find matter of 
pleasantry in the most serious things, making the burlesque 
constantly spring from the sublime, through a natural talent 
for travestie, and for going from the high to the low. Some 
minds also, more seriously corrupt what is elevated, by 
their manner of viewing it; and have an unhappy talent of 
making the great contemptible. This is the art of buffoon- 
ery ; but less innocent than buffoonery commonly so called. 
It is united with a false and cruel gayety through the influ- 
ence of ridicule. These minds are quick, subtle, naturally 
descending, rather than mounting, and seizing not the 
essence of things but their least accessories. In a majestic 
whole they find a point which was unperceived, they make 
it evident by a rapid stroke, they increase the effect by the 
surprise they excite, and break up the harmony of the whole. 
The field of morality is especially open to them, because 
every thing in it being great and majestic, there is more to 
degrade. They find arms in public and private history, and 
the experience of the world; because virtue is never per- 
fected on earth, and because in characters, where it has 
established its sway, there always remain some imperfec- 
tions and discords of which slander may take advantage. 
Simplicity, generosity, and confidence excite in such per- 
sons a disdainful smile ; the maxims of the wise are to them 
vain abstractions; the weaknesses of the great a subject of 
triumph. Perhaps they obtain some frivolous and vulgar 
applause ; and is not this the meed of mountebanks? Frivo- 
lous men find in them the piquancy of variety, the charm 
of contrast and novelty ; for is there not something new in 
seeing eternal truth overturned ? Vulgar minds love to see 



368 SELF-EDUCATION. 

an overthrow, as children love to see destruction. Besides, 
without confessing it to himself, more than one spectator is 
pleased to see those models disregarded, which he has 
not the courage to approach, and which wound his self-love 
by condemning his cowardice. This scourge especially 
occurs in states of society in which mental enjoyment has 
become a sport rather than an occupation : or in which it is 
associated with frivolity, or when minds, enervated by the 
abuse of pleasure, fatigued by satiety and disgust, incapable 
of the energy which aspires to what is great, but tormented 
with the restless activity of seeking novelty, would obtain 
it without effort ; or, when the extreme complication of 
social relations, and the continual collision of individuals, 
favors the play, and insures the success, of those nice and 
quick observations, which seize the most fugitive shades in 
things, situations, and characters. 

Let us observe the processes of nature in those successive 
transformations which organized substances undergo; how 
unceasingly she dissolves to recombine, destroys to reviv- 
ify ! This is the image of the processes, to which the hu- 
man mind is called. As we cannot know any thing well, 
without examining its various parts, analysis should be the 
prelude of intellectual operations. But this is only the com- 
mencement; we must finish by recomposition ; if we stop 
here, we only produce dissections ; and the objects are 
deprived of warmth, motion, and life. These habits of analy- 
sis produce great penetration of mind, but this penetration 
may degenerate into subtility ; the mind may lose a portion 
of its nerve and vigor, and become less capable of combining 
anew the objects of meditation. The disposition which 
multiplies doubts, will have fewer means of freeing itself, 
because it will be more skilful in making problems, than in 
furnishing means of solving them. Such a direction of the 
intellectual faculties reacts upon the moral faculties ; it pro- 
duces irresolution and withering of heart. If the philo- 
sophic spirit is such an abberration, there is no doubt we 



INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 369 

should dread its influence on moral progress; but why give 
this title to what is not the spirit of true philosophy? The 
latter does not leave its operations incomplete ; its analyses 
are preparations; it separates only to reunite: it does not 
destroy ; it transforms and regenerates. 

In general, those habits of mind which become prejudicial 
to the character, by the influence they exercise upon it, are 
precisely those which in consequence of some abuse or de- 
viation, would be really hurtful to the understanding itself, 
even when giving to it perhaps, some exuberance of special 
capacity. 

It happens that this investigating spirit, which is the eye 
of the understanding, if it directs itself too exclusively to 
what is external, forgets the use of internal reflection ; and 
therefore, with much science, there will be little self-knowl- 
edge, and from want of inward vigilance, we easily become 
the prey of anarchy of heart. Then the culture of the 
moral faculties will languish in its principle ; for beside the 
distraction of the world and of pleasure, there is another 
distraction which is less fatal doubtless, but which, taking 
away the habit of self-communion, deprives us of abundant 
resources. 

But have not the inaction and torpor and wanderings of 
the intellectual faculties deleterious influences, when acting 
upon the character more directly ? Is not insensibility often 
the consequence of dissipation of mind? How many times 
our faults spring from inattention, as well as our errors, and 
might be defined a distraction of soul ! Virtue is rather 
neglected, misconceived, forgotten, than openly violated. 
Certainly the more the mind is elevated and extended, the 
better it will appreciate the vast relations of moral truth to 
human destiny, to social prosperity, and individual happi- 
ness. The science of virtue then is the inheritance of great 
minds. Let us give to our intellectual faculties the educa- 
tion which they require, and far from having any thing to fear 
concerning their progress, we should employ them for our 



370 SELF-EDUCATION. 

moral amelioration. Let us exercise them upon complete, just^ 
and solid ideas, accustoming them to take right and regular 
views, and to remain faithful to nature. In the noble labors 
of intellect, especially, let us always be animated by worthy 
motives ! Let the true and the good always be invoked 
with sincerity, and consequently sought for their own sakes ! 
Let us take care not to make them food for self-love; or 
stifle with venal intentions those happy influences, which 
might come to us. Let us never forget that the true and 
the beautiful are the common property of humanity ; that 
the success obtained in their search should not become an 
instrument for our pretensions, but the means of spreading 
abroad invaluable benefits. 

Philosophers have constantly accused imagination of being 
the irreconcilable enemy of reason, morality, and happiness ; 
considering it as the source of the illusions that lead us astray, 
of the ambition which excites us so excessively, and of all 
the agitations of our hearts. These views are in some 
respects but too just. Disorders of imagination may cor- 
rupt, in a thousand ways, our ideas of excellence, cover 
them with a thick cloud, and give a fatal taint to the worship 
of which they are the object. Imagination should be our 
servant ; if it is abandoned to itself, the order of things is 
reversed, and Self-government is inevitably enfeebled. 
Hence we remark, that the abuse of imagination enervates 
the character, giving new vivacity to sensible impressions, 
which in their nature are all passive. It furnishes Abun- 
dant aliment to the passions ; it destroys peace, the princi- 
ple of true force ; it substitutes soft and fugitive pictures 
for the solid substance of reality ; it gives power to illusions 
over the soul, which, in the midst of trials, is called to 
strengthen itself by resistance ; it hides the combat, in order 
to dispense with the labor of vanquishing ; it leads into rev- 
erie him who was destined to act seriously in a positive 
world, offering him only light, transitory objects, subject to 
his own good pleasure ; it transforms his existence into a 



INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 371 

vain sport, the government of himself into a kind of anarchy, 
and leaves a free course to all the aberrations of independ- 
ence. There is in the exercises of imagination some thing 
voluptuous, which lulls the soul to sleep. We breathe and 
feel with extreme vivacity, but as if in a dream. In a word, 
this capricious faculty resists in a thousand ways the inflex- 
ible and austere rules of right; disorder of ideas gives birth 
to disorder of feelings. Among the different kinds of illu- 
sions of which the aberrations of imagination may be the 
source, there is one which demands to be pointed out 
especially, because the snares it spreads are most subtle, 
and may surprise the most honest. These are the illusions, 
which lead us astray in self-knowledge, deceiving us con- 
cerning our own sentiments, concerning the reality and the 
strength of our attachment to virtue; these are the illusions, 
which encompass us by enjoyments purely speculative, and 
put us into a state of exaltation by the images of an ideal 
perfection, which charm our mind, without taking posses- 
sion of our soul, without governing our character, without 
impressing itself upon our life. These images of perfection 
compose for us a sort of artificial and deceptive morality, 
converting virtue into a kind of delicious poetry ; but ban- 
ishing it into the clouds, and taking from it that deep, secret, 
positive power, which it ought to exercise over our senti- 
ments and actions ; as if virtue were a recreation or an 
ornament, and not the rule of our existence. As wisdom 
proceeds by making sensible objects give birth to moral 
notions ; so imagination proceeds, on the contrary, by 
making moral notions take sensible forms, and veiiing 
abstract conceptions in sensible figures. Let us defend 
ourselves then from a disposition, too common at present, 
of considering subjects belonging to the most serious des- 
tinies of man, under that aspect which we call their poetic 
side. We expose ourselves by this to make those artificial 
chords which charm the imagination, prevail over the 
solemn harmonies of duty, to take elegance of forms for 



372 SELF-EDUCATION. 

real goodness, grace for truth, the symbol for thethinor; 
introducing into the sound and pure worship of virtue 
a sort of superstition and idolatry. 

But may not philosophy take a more just view of this 
brilliant faculty of the mind? May not morality itself 
recognise important services which might be deduced from 
it ? Confined to its legitimate functions, directed to its true 
destination, may not this faculty, like all others, contribute 
to the progress of our character ? What is this power, 
which puts us in possession of the future, transports us to all 
distances, makes us conceive objects invisible to sense, 
introduces us to what is merely possible, sustains our 
strength by hope, extends the narrow sphere of our exis- 
tence beyond the limits of the present? May it not, by 
deepening the sources of our sensibility, fertilize the field 
of our virtue ? May it not, by refreshing and embellish- 
ing our inward life with pure and innocent enjoyment, 
restore our strength? May it not, by attaching us to the 
contemplation of nature, conduct us, by that alone, to a great 
and instructive school ? We would not leave our virtue to 
evaporate in a vain, fantastic poetry, but let us permit 
poetry to put itself in the service of virtue, to bring near to 
us the divine model, to lend its eloquence and its graces to 
the austere voice of duty. This entirely moral poetry, the 
messenger of excellence. Providence has made to appear in 
all its works. It breathes in all the scenes of nature, if we 
can but consider them, not with the eye of the body alone, 
but with the attentive and collected eye of the soul. It 
resounds in the hymn of creation ; it borrows majesty from 
the phenomena of the heavens, varied and graceful expres- 
sions from landscapes and simple flowers. It breathes in 
the songs of man, when, as the worthy interpreter of this 
universal concert, he restores the image of virtue to those 
scenes which seem to invoke it, and which become anima- 
ted by its presence. It breathes also in the monuments 
raised to the memory of great men, and to the remembrance 



INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS LEADS TO MORALITY. 373 

of great actions ; in public solemnities, sacred to the honor 
of what merits respect, and to the confirmation of the ties 
which unite the members of society ; in the imposing 
circumstances, which surround the magistrate, and decorate 
the temple of the laws. It is this poetry, which raises the 
standard, at the sight of which patriotism rallies ; which 
gathers the palm decreed to heroes ; which composes all 
the attributes of glory. Let those creative arts, then, which 
are the pride and the light of the earth, gather round the 
holy image of virtue ! Let them announce its presence, 
and be transported in contemplating it with a truer and 
surer enthusiasm, than can be drawn from earthly senti- 
ments, and thus render themselves worthy of receiving from 
it an order of immortal beauties ! 

If we understand the true vocation ofthe imagination, and 
the spirit in which it ought to be cultivated and exercised, 
and its productions conceived and enjoyed, our soul will not 
drink poison, but salutary beverage from its brilliant cup. 

Reason presiding over our intellectual faculties, moderator, 
regulator, supreme arbiter, assigns to each, its department, 
its functions, its limits. Its attributes consist in this high 
prerogative, in the empire which it grants to the mind over 
itself Armed with method, it classifies, plans out, distrib- 
utes ; armed with judgment, and supported upon good sense, 
it weighs and decides ; order and truth are its domain. It 
takes care of our intellectual progress, being charged to 
obtain general harmony. Its energy should always grow in 
proportion to the developement of the subordinate faculties. 
Here, at least, no fatal influence is to be feared ; all thp 
influences will be salutary. If reason is not virtue itself, 
as some wise men have pretended, it is at least its sister; 
having the same aspect, the same language, recognising the 
same authority, obeying the same rules, following in a thou- 
sand things the same paths, with a mutual intelligence and 
communication. Habits of order and of regularity, estab- 
lished in ideas, are communicated insensibly to sentiments 
32 



374, SELF-EDUCATION. 

in the whole system of life : serenity of mind favors peace 
of soul. Error has no good fruits : when it is allied to 
moral sentiment, in an -unlawful union, the strength, given 
us to do good, is not only dissipated in useless applications, 
but is directed against the true end, tormenting others and 
ourselves under the most honorable pretexts. The false 
associations of ideas, which impose, under the name of 
morality, imaginary duties, tend often, by inevitable conse- 
quence, to corrupt, at the foundation, the purity of sentiment 
that belongs to real duties ; for frequent occasions present 
themselves, in which conventional and factitious precepts 
are at war with the rules immediately dictated by con- 
science. Hence, at least, arise perplexities, enfeebling the 
authority of conscience, if indeed conscience is not stifled 
by the blind and mechanical force of habit. Can filial 
piety, in its primitive integrity, possibly exist in the heart of 
the son, to whom is prescribed (as often happens on the 
coast of Malabar) the factitious duty of sacrificing his 
mother on the tomb of her husband ] What an infinity of 
false consequences and unexpected errors must spring from 
this one error ! Truth need not be feared, when in its 
place : and can it be out of its place? Morality does not 
fear profound and complete investigations : it only fears 
superficial and frivolous views. Good sense is the friend, 
the guardian of virtue ; protecting rectitude of intention 
and calmness of heart, and fortifying the soul by the plen- 
titude of conviction. Communication with truth preserves 
security, confidence, constancy, resolution, and dignity of 
character. 

When we have become capable of governing our minds, 
shall we not become better capable of directing aright the 
movements of the heart ? Shall we not have more means 
of self-knowledge, and consequently of moral self-govern- 
ment ? 

We may remark, however, that men given up to a life of 
study, are in general exposed to feebleness of character. 



EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 375 

But it is not to the developement which the intellectual fac- 
ulties have received, that this effect is to be attributed ; it 
is to the want of equilibrium between the powers of the 
intellect and those of the will. They have not enough 
occasions of willing and of acting in external life. Hence 
such men have a peculiar necessity of domestic affections, 
which may maintain a harmony of the faculties of the heart 
with those of the mind, and afford some active exercises 
which will make them useful to others. The more the 
objects of constant study have the character of generality, 
the more necessary it becomes, that a beneficent external 
life should particularize objects of activity, and be individu- 
alized upon persons. 



CHAPTER XL 

RELIGION CONSIDERED AS THE ACCOMPLISHMENT OF MAN's 
EDUCATION. 

The moral faculties of man aspire to Religion, and Re- 
ligion, in her turn, by satisfying their demands gives them 
the most favorable culture. The religious sentiment, im- 
planted in the heart by Providence, awaits for its develope- 
ment the simple and sublime idea of a Supreme Benefactor, 
and then is unfolded, as naturally as filial affection in the 
child who knows his parent. Constantly strengthened and en- 
lightened by experience and reflection, it germinates in the 
bosom of conscience, as in its native soul ; explaining, en- 
riching, and bringing to perfection every moral impulse in 
man. Without it, the intelligent creature is but an abortion, 
a fruit detached from the universal tree of creation without 
having attained its maturity. 



376 SELF-EDUCATION. 

In the origin of civilization, Religion is the first instructer 
of human society. She is the mother of arts, of sciences, 
of public morals, and even of laws. As civilization ad- 
vances, she affords clearer light : and applying herself to 
morals and to happiness, becomes, in relation to man, more 
beneficent, more grand, and more pure. In like manner 
she begins with individuals, impressing the heart of the 
young child with the first knowledge of justice and good- 
ness ; awakening the sentiment of duty ; and, after having 
accompanied him in all the trials of life, when his organs 
become weakened, and terrestrial things vanish, she brings 
him new strength and opens new prospects. Never does 
she appear more touching or more venerable than when she 
enlightens with her divine rays the morning and evening of 
existence. She is the Alpha and Omega of our destiny ; 
the wisdom of infancy, and the youth of old age. 

If the road travelled by us here below, is but a great and 
continual preparation, we may remark, that Religion em- 
braces its whole course, contributing to our education, and 
possessing all the conditions which are neccessary to render 
this education as complete and fruitful as possible. Very 
different from school education, Religion addresses the 
most intimate faculties of the soul ; nourishing and devel- 
oping them at the same time that it regulates their exercise ; 
cultivating them all at once, and in harmony with each 
other ; directing them constantly to practical applications, 
addressing their vital principle, and giving them the highest 
degree of purity and energy. The religious sentiment, the 
sentiment which is expressed in adoration, includes at once, 
love, respect, submission, gratitude, and confidence : it is 
the worship of power, wisdom, infinite goodness, and infinite 
justice : there is, then, not a moral sentiment which it does 
not embrace, strengthening its principle and extending its 
sphere. But communicating to the soul a singular eleva- 
tion, it also constantly recalls it to simplicity and modesty, 
restoring while it softens it ; moderating while it animates 



EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 377 

it ; associating self-distrust with the most heroic courage ; 
and, as it at once offers to the creature, both the model of 
that ideal perfection towards which it directs the most noble 
affections of the heart, and the prospect of an unbounded 
futurity of existence, it constantly excites him to progress ; 
at the same time powerfully aiding his efforts by the com- 
munion it establishes between the soul and its eternal Crea- 
tor. 

As by loving, we learn to love : so by loving what is 
truly worthy of being loved, we comprehend all that this 
great sentiment involves. Love, in the bosom of religion, 
recognises its essence and original source ; from which it 
flows constantly, all alive and animated with immortal 
youth; and in which it is purified as in celestial fire, and 
spreads over the earth with abundant fullness, to enrich and 
enlighten every thing. If the relations of a moment, found- 
ed on a community of limited interests, suffice to create 
lively affections, what must be the legitimate effect of those 
eternal bonds, which embrace all that is most profound and 
most real in our existence? Instructed by religion, shall we 
not recognise, in all the beings who are united to us by so- 
ciety or by nature, a sacred deposit, confided to us by per- 
fect and infinite love ; shall we not discover the connexion 
of a grand fraternity ; does not humanity become a family 
bond, a community of the future ; can there be any being 
unknown, any stranger to him, who reads, on the forehead 
of his brother, the character imprinted by the hand of God 
himself? Piety, from one extremity of the earth to the 
other, is a holy and magnificent sympathy of hearts. And 
what name can we give to the affections (nature's most 
precious gift), if we despoil them of the religious sentiment, 
which is their soul ? Will they be a charm or a poison ? 
Shall we be satisfied or deceived by them ? Without religion, 
what would remain to be shared with those we love ? In 
what thoughts should we understand one another? Ah, how 
poor would be our language ; with what trembling would 
32* 



378 SELF-EDUCATION. 

our eyes meet ! With what despair should we bid farewell, 
and lose each other ! Should we really belong to each other 
here below 1 Our souls would but touch in passing ; they 
could not mingle together. Love and happiness, the appa- 
rent ends of our destiny, would contradict each other. The 
selfish man would alone be prudent. Well 1 Let selfishness 
and irreligion triumph together ; snows, darkness, and anni- 
hilation are their empire. Oh, deprived of religion, what is 
man 1 What does he find in himself to love, to cherish, to 
protect ? What a melancholy sterility remains even in the eyes 
of selfishness! But give this feeble, restless creature, reli- 
gion ; he can then love himself justly and really, and taste 
some sweetness, and find some fruit even in this solitary affec- 
tion : the instinct which leads him to self, will be legitimate 
and satisfactory : and though separated from all created 
things, and seeing all disappear from vision, all will still 
remain to him ; for the Infinite will remain, the object of his 
worship, the end his hopes. 

The universal attraction of insensible matter completely 
attains its end ; preserving the universal harmony of visible 
nature. And will the noble attraction of hearts be deceived 
in its object ? will they gravitate towards each other to be 
forever repulsed ? can there be a principle of perpetual and 
general discord in the most beautiful region of the universe? 

Religion excites to sacrifice ; and sacrifice has been the 
general and fundamental condition of religious worship, in 
all times and places. Without taking pains to seek any 
other explanation of this historical phenomenon, is it not 
because love, even unconsciously to itself, is the vital prin- 
ciple of religion ] We love but to bestow : the stronger our 
affection, the more it tends to sacrifice : and man has never 
found any thing sufficiently precious for a holocaust. This 
exercise of immolation is the education of generosity; but 
how easy it will be to give ourselves for our fellow-men, 
when we feel that in this we devote ourselves to God ! This 
is the real holocaust which piety seeks and goodness points 
out. 



EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 379 

Religion is a science simple in its elements, but immense 
in its applications. Is not the beautiful definition of Bacon 
eminently applicable to it ? for where is there a more " grand 
interpretation of nature?" And the portion of nature 
best interpreted by it, is precisely that which touches us the 
most nearly, is the most essential to our happiness, the most 
necessary to the exercise of our activity, — that which alone 
comes home to us, and is our very destiny. But Religion 
tells us more even of the least insect and plant, than all the 
art of the zoologist or botanist : the latt-er show us the work, 
Religion the author. Religion alone unrolls the chain of 
causes, and explains the notion of cause ; for there are no 
causes without the great First Cause : and what is true 
science but the theory of causation ? What exercises give 
more grave or serious habits to the mind ? What concep- 
tions give a more vast sphere to its ideas, or place it in a 
point of view so elevated? What notions make it so com- 
pletely comprehend order, that great instrument in the 
operations of the human mind? What influences introduce 
it so directly to meditation, rendering meditation easier, 
sweeter, and at the same time more profound ? Religion, 
the inward teacher, carrying the eye of reflection over all 
the secrets of the soul, is the lamp of the intellectual life. 
It is the polar star of genius, the supreme link of the great 
plan, the high revelation which connects the visible to the 
invisible, the known to the unknown, the outward universe to 
thought. Thus poetry and the arts, when they attempt their 
highest flight, when they wish to immortalize their works, 
if they dare not directly invoke this celestial power, seek 
at least, in their fictions, the appearance of her shadow, and 
some features stolen from her venerable image. 

Mind, without Religion, wanders through the universe 
exiled, solitary, and, as it were, lost; perceiving only a 
surface, from which it is reflected, but finding no focus for 
its rays. In Religion it finds a country ; its light becomes 
a vivifying ray, instead of being a fugitive spark. 



380 SELF-EDUCATION. 

What is most remarkable in the education, given by 
Religion to the affections of the heart and the powers of the 
mind, is this, — that, in developing them, she directs with 
certainty, and by open and short paths, towards that moral 
perfection, which is their proper object. 

There is not a single one of the duties, prescribed by nat- 
ural morality, that Religion doesnotprescribe and ennoble by 
consecrating ; there is no counsel of wisdom or prudence, 
that is not recommended by her, that is not raised to a higher 
degree of perfection, and established upon a firmer basis. 
The code of excellence receives from her an august promul- 
gation ; and as, in fact, this code is engraven on our hearts 
by God himself, morality, eternal as its author, is thus 
revealed in its origin and essence. The consequence reas- 
cends to its principle and receives merely a new confirma- 
tion. Law is no longer alone, but the Legislator appears 
and unveils himself, to republish and sanction what he has 
already written in the sanctuary of conscience. 

The understanding of the rules of duty is sometimes ob- 
scure, and difficult. In Religion all becomes clear, fixed, 
simple ; rules take a form. Prescriptions of duty sometimes 
appear dry and hard in abstract speculation ; in Religion, 
they become animated, personified, full of sentiment, and 
express themselves in most eloquent language. When pre- 
sented to the religious man in its true aspect, the order of 
society appears to him as an institution founded by the Au- 
thor of all things : the justice of human laws becomes an 
expression of eternal justice ; legitimate power, a delega- 
tion from on high ; the place assigned to himself, a voca- 
tion ; thus, he accepts his lot whatever it is, and lives, be- 
cause he knows whom he obeys, and because in obeying he 
trusts him. 

Man is but an instrument. Religion confirms this truth ; 
but what a noble instrument he becomes in her hands. Of 
all visible agents he becomes the first, because he alone 
knows the invisible Mover, to whom he serves as a lever ; 



EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 381 

he alone associates himself in the designs of this great Di- 
rector by the power of thought. If, in disposing of himself, 
he exercises a control, this control supposes an authority, a 
right. Who confers them upon him ? This empire over 
himself, that we called a magistracy, we may now call a 
priesthood ; for man becomes in regard to himself, the 
minister of God, and the dispenser of his benefits. An 
emancipated child, he rejoices in his liberty, because he 
may freely accomplish his father's will. Invested with reli- 
gious dignity, he respects himself; he esteems himself with- 
out pride ; and, in circumstances reputed the lowest by the 
prejudices of the world, claims a noble title, of which the 
world is ignorant. This sense of dignity will be so much 
the more modest and benevolent, as it is more just. What 
does he possess but the benefactions ofthe common Father ; 
and why does he possess them, but that he may spread them ? 
Behold him freed from the tyranny of opinion ; what im- 
ports the judgment of the frivolous spectators who direct 
it? He moves in the presence of a high witness, even truth 
itself. Supported under the weight of his own weakness, 
secure in danger, comforted in grief, surrounded by an all- 
powerful protection, attached to a better world by bonds 
which nothing can sever, he does not exhaust himself by a 
stern resistance, but seeks refuge in a serene and gentle 
resignation, born of submission and confidence. Through 
the sombre clouds accumulated round him by heart-rending 
sorrows, wounded in all his affections, he sees that luminous 
ray, which, descending from heaven, shines through and 
dissipates the gloom. The religious man, though alone, 
and deserted by the whole world, still finds one to console 
him ; condemned to unlimited suffering, he still preserves 
hope. Earth has its heroes; Religion alone has its mar- 
tyrs. 

Religion alone explains the terrible and deep mystery of 
grief, in those forms in which it penetrates to the bottom of 
the soul : she does not dry our tears, but aids them in their 



382 SELF-EDUCATION. 

course. Ye, who know the secret of such grief, can under- 
stand how she thus solaces. 

Religion alone leaves to human faults an indefinite hope 
of pardon ; that hope which the world so often refuses, 
which even conscience sometimes dares not grant ; that 
restoring hope, indispensable for curing its wounds, and for 
rendering them profitable. 

Not only do the Love of Excellence and Self-government 
thus find in Religion their most powerful direct auxiliary ; but 
all the secondary means, also, which concur in the educa- 
tion of these two great moral powers, receive from it the most 
energetic assistance. Thus the joys of virtue are not simply 
the satisfactions given by the testimony of conscience ; they 
are the effusions of a celestial joy ; the joy of gratitude 
which is permitted to acquit itself, the joy of love which 
may express itself. Thus the prudence recommended by 
duty, is not merely a wise forecast for the happiness of a 
few moments, but a dispensation calculated for an immense 
future. Thus the admiration excited by the idea of su- 
preme excellence, is not an enthusiasm for an abstract or 
speculative beauty ; it is a worship of excellence itself, 
personified and living, of which every thing good or beau- 
tiful is but the reflection. Thus order, which is revealed in 
the plan of creation, in the physical and moral world, pen- 
etrating us like a vast and continual melody, establishes and 
maintains the concert of our faculties. Thus, peace, the 
first of blessings, giving strength to the heart, and light to 
the mind ; the source of all interior freedom ; peace, the vital 
element, in which alone wisdom breathes, acquires a strength 
before unknown ; and mortal creatures, fatigued and agita- 
ted by the storms of time, repose in a sublime communion 
with Him whom nothing agitates, because he is infinite, 
because in him all is immutable. 

Even the inferior order of our sensitive faculties is awak- 
ened, and escapes the narrow bounds of animal life, roused 
from the tomb of matter by the holy voice of Religion; all 



EVERY THING LEADS TO RELIGION. 383 

nature takes a soul and a language responding to our spirit; 
the universe is opened, as the temple of the Most High ; the 
phenomena of the heavens appear as his messengers ; the fruits 
of the earth grow as witnesses and organs of his kindness ; 
the simplest flowers speak his indulgent goodness ; the sight of 
a clear sky, a starry night, the air we breathe, the ocean, even 
the tempest, all speak to us of God. Public worship, spread- 
ing over the earth like heavenly dew, vivifies, consecrates, 
decorates the imposing scene of creation, by associating it 
with His Spirit. Privaffe worship favors, by religious medi- 
tation, the exercise of self-recollection and reflection. Do- 
mestic worship purifies and protects the obscure asylum, in 
which the days of our earthly life pass, and exhibits the holi- 
est spectacle on earth, virtue in adoration of God ; making 
of one little spot a sort of universe, filled as it is by the 
presence of God. Public worship transforms civil society 
into a moral community, and the concourse of individuals 
who were strangers to each other, into a family union. Its 
festivals are a necessary rest, both in rural and city life ; 
its solemnities break the monotony of time, and give a charm 
to the repose merited by long labor : its ceremonies hallow 
the most important eras of human destiny, as well as the 
revolutions of the seasons ; giving to joy a graver character, 
to grief a mysterious sweetness ; nourishing pious remem- 
brances, and keeping up a holy communion between those 
who survive and those who have departed ; and covering the 
tomb with emblems of immortality. 

Thus Religion conduces to, and accomplishes, the educa- 
tion of mankind in society as in the individual. Moreover, 
life would cease to be an education, if Religion did not mark 
out its end ; for it would cease to be a preparation, and the 
work would be wasted. 

But, that the power of Religion may be effectual, it should 
preserve in their integrity the conditions whence its admi- 
rable effects emanate. We find in its code this great max- 
im ; Nothing is worse than the corruption of the best. Now 



384 SELF-EDUCATION. 

its characteristics depend upon two essential points: our 
inward religion should be that of love ; our worship should 
be the sincere expression of our inward religion : the vio- 
lation of the first rule brings fanaticism ; that of the second 
rule brings superstition, terrible in its ravages, in proportion 
to the strength of the religious principle. Selfishness may 
find in it food for pride, and become more exclusive, fero- 
cious, and obdurate. Sensuality may degrade and make it 
subservient to gross and material interests. Ignorance may 
misconceive its true spirit, turn it against its true end, and 
bring it into' contempt and abhorrence. The externals of 
religion may be assumed in bad faith, and engender the 
monster, hypocrisy. They may even produce that most 
fatal hypocrisy, by which man succeeds in deceiving himself, 
the only error which has no remedy. 

If this magnificent gift of Heaven is not received into a 
sound mind and pure heart, it is adulterated by all our 
errors, and corrupted by all our passions. Woe, woe to him, 
who degrades Religion by making it an instrument instead 
of an end, the first end of life; who makes it an accomplice 
of those errors of which it ought to be the remedy ! He 
has dared to condemn to a base subserviency the august 
queen of the world. And to what end is she made subservi- 
ent ? To power, or to vanity, or to avarice, or to ambition ? 
There remains nothing else. And is not this idolatry ? For 
what is an idol but any earthly object, which usurps the 
worship due to the Creator alone? Woe to him, who has 
dared to employ Religion as a means of oppressing, tor- 
menting, afflicting others, despoiling them of their rights, 
of their noblest riches, the treasures of the mind and heart, 
when this Eternal Benefactress would distribute, to all, light 
and happiness with love ! This is sacrilege ; there is no 
other. 

To have traced the characteristics which constitute Reli- 
gion in its purity, — is it not to have named the regenerating 
worship ? Is it not to have named Christianity ? In this 



EVERYTHING LEADS TO RELIGION. 385 

picture, do we not recognise her features? Is there on 
earth another worship, which has the essential characteristics 
of true religion ? What other has placed all law in the love of 
God and of men, all worship in adoring in spirit and in truth ? 
What other has consoled the world with the parable of the 
Prodigal Son ? What other has said, " Suffer little children to 
come unto me ; " '^ Blessed are the peaceful, blessed are the 
simple ; blessed are the afflicted ; blessed are those, who suifer 
persecution for the sake of justice ? " What other has consol- 
ed the humble, and brought low the proud ? A secret instinct 
has taught all nations, that initiations are to be obtained bv 
trials : Christianity has explained this great mystery. It has 
elevated sacrifice and immolation to a sublime dignity. It 
has restored the idea of infinite perfection. In society it has 
proclaimed universal equality, the basis of all justice; in 
its application to individuals, it has taught the secrets of 
self-discipline, and sounded the mysteries of the heart, to 
satisfy all its wants. It has been upon earth the most pow- 
erful promoter of moral progress, because it has detached 
the mind from the thraldom of the senses, and the heart 
from the bonds of the passions, without misconceiving the 
conditions and the exigences of our nature; because it has 
made the essence of religion consist in progress itself 

Christianity has the incontestable glory of having formed, 
in all classes of society, and in the most humble conditions 
as well as in the most elevated, the most accomplished mod- 
els of perfection that the world has offered. History shows 
no devotion more generous, no triumph over self more com- 
plete, than those which are peculiar to its records. It has 
pursued selfishness into its last asylum, and under all its 
forms, — pride, vanity, self-love ; and it alone, perhaps, has 
succeeded in destroying it completely. 

Philosophy studies man and nature : it examines the laws 
of the universe, and of those faculties which set man on its 
throne; it has arrived at three great results; truth, happi- 
ness, and duty. Enlightened by this study, it discovers 
33 



386 SELF-EDUCATION. 

beyond space and time, and above the invisible world, Him 
in vi^hom all exist, live, and move, thus placing the most 
noble of creatures in the hands of Religion, which alone can 
explain and accomplish his destiny. Thus reason pays a 
just and solemn homage to its Author. Happy and proud 
at thus having renewed the chain of being, and achieved its 
work, the intellect goes out again into nature, gathering up 
the influences of this sublime adoption ; finding in Religion 
the source of a new life and new light, and hence feeling 
itself animated with a deeper wisdom. 

Philosophy still respectfully placing herself in the train of 
Religion, will not cease to accompany man in this new and 
elevated existence : teaching him to cultivate the faculties, 
of which Religion shows him the value, and invites him to 
make the best use ; assisting him to prevent and to rectify 
the aberrations, that Religion disavows and deplores ; ren- 
dering Religion more honored by showing its claims, and 
more useful in our eyes by recounting its benefits. 

Finally, by proving the perfect accordance of true Philos- 
ophy and Religion, Philosophy serves, and especially in this 
age, the dearest interests of the cause of both. 



THE END. 



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